JJ.. 


;are  e 3 

o 


/ V 


>\ 


f-  220J  .D 18 

•Daniel  <=  mr 

Of 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/makersofsouthame00dani_0 


FRANCISCO  PIZARRO 

(From  an  Original  Painting  in  the  Palace  of  the  Vice- 
roys at  Lima,  Peru  ) 


Makers  of  South  America 


BY  y 

MARGARETTE  DANIELS 


NEW  YORK 

MISSIONARY  EDUCATION  MOVEMENT 
OF  THE  UNITED  STATES  AND  CANADA 

1916 


Copyright,  1916,  by 

MISSIONARY  EDUCATION  MOVEMENT 
OF  THE  UNITED  STATES  AND  CANADA 


CONTENTS 


PAGB 

Preface v 

I Francisco  Pizarro i 

II  Jose  de  Anchieta 21 

III  Jose  de  San  Martin 39 

IV  Bolivar 59 

V James  Thomson 81 

VI  Allen  Gardiner 101 

VII  Juan  Manuel  Rosas 123 

VIII  Domingo  F.  Sarmiento 141 

IX  Dom  Pedro  II 163 

X David  Trumbull 183 

XI  Francisco  Penzotti 203 

XII  W.  Barbrooke  Grubb 223 

Bibliography 243 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Francisco  Pizarro  Frontispiece 

Jose  de  Anchieta  23 

Jose  de  San  Martin,  Equestrian  Statue  in  Santiago,  Chile..  41 

Simon  Bolivar 61 

The  Cathedral,  Lima,  Peru 83 

Allen  F.  Gardiner  103 

Juan  Manuel  Rosas  125 

Domingo  F.  Sarmiento  143 

Dom  Pedro  II 165 

David  Trumbull  185 

Francisco  Penzotti,  Imprisoned  in  Callao,  Peru 205 

W.  Barbrooke  Grubb  225 

Map  End. 


PREFACE 


Some  day  we  are  going  to  know  our  friends  in  the 
other  America  a great  deal  better  than  we  do  now. 
Big  ships  are  plying  back  and  forth  through  the  new 
canal,  and  every  year  it  grows  a little  easier  to  travel 
in  South  America.  Nowadays  a trip  to  Callao  is  likely 
to  be  advertised  by  enterprising  steamship  companies 
along  with  tours  to  Bermuda  or  over  the  Great  Lakes. 

Here  are  twelve  men  who  have  done  big  things  for 
those  countries  beyond  Panama — the  men  who  ought 
to  head  our  list  of  South  American  acquaintances. 
Whether  a patriot  like  San  Martin,  or  a rascal  like 
Pizarro;  loved  by  his  countrymen  like  Bolivar,  or 
hated  like  Rosas;  a brilliant  success  like  Mr.  Grubb, 
or  a failure  like  Allen  Gardiner — all  had  their  share 
in  the  making  of  the  continent,  as  Washington  and 
Jackson  and  Lincoln  helped  in  the  making  of  our 
country. 

Lord  James  Bryce,  the  Englishman  who  has  written 
the  best  history  of  the  United  States,  went  down  to 
South  America  not  long  ago,  prowled  around  for  a 
few  months,  and  then  wrote  the  finest  volume  of 
general  information  about  the  whole  country  that 
we  have  ever  had.  In  South  America:  Observations 
and  Impressions , he  has  selected  just  the  things  about 
each  republic,  past  and  present,  that  every  one  wants 


VI 


PREFACE 


to  know — history,  romance,  people  and  places,  anec- 
dotes, adventures  and  legends.  William  Prescott’s 
Conquest  of  Peru,  the  story  of  the  glorious  Inca 
dynasty  and  old  Pizarro’s  hairbreadth  escapes,  we  have 
most  of  us  read  long  before  this  in  the  days  when  we 
pored  over  Ivanhoe  and  The  Last  of  the  Mohicans. 
For  the  story  of  the  picturesque  old  mission  towns  of 
Argentine  and  Paraguay,  the  Arcadia  where  the  Jesuit 
fathers  once  collected  the  Guarani  Indians,  there  is 
W.  H.  Koebel’s  In  Jesuit  Land.  The  best  book  on  the 
wars  for  independence  will  not  be  so  easy  to  find  in 
your  library,  but  it  is  worth  hunting  for.  It  is  called 
The  Emancipation  of  South  America,  and  Bartolome 
Mitre,  one  of  the  greatest  historians  of  his  country, 
wrote  it.  The  translator  has  left  out  some  cumber- 
some details,  but  if  it  still  seems  overdetailed  for  gen- 
eral reading,  it  is  easy  to  skip  without  missing  the 
main  points  and  the  thrilling  accounts  of  men  and 
battles.  You  will  find  in  it  many  anecdotes  of  San 
Martin  and  Bolivar,  the  battles  they  fought,  the  men 
who  helped  them,  and  the  story  of  their  mysterious 
interview.  In  those  days  it  seems  to  have  been  the 
fashion  for  every  sea  captain  and  army  officer  to 
keep  a journal  and  find  some  one  to  publish  it  for 
him.  Captain  Basil  Hall’s  Journal  of  Travels  in 
Chile  and  Peril  is  the  best  of  dozens  you  might  read. 
He  was  cruising  along  the  western  coast  just  at  the 
time  that  San  Martin  went  to  Lima,  and  he  tells  story 
after  story  of  what  happened  during  the  campaign,  of 
meeting  the  great  general,  of  picnics  and  balls  and 


PREFACE 


vii 

merrymaking,  and  the  customs  of  the  people.  An 
Unknown  People  in  an  Unknown  Land,  written  by 
Mr.  Grubb,  is  packed  full  of  his  adventures  in  the 
Chaco,  a region  where  few  white  men  have  ever  dared 
to  go,  and  tells  how  he  made  friends  of  the  Indians 
who  used  to  depend  on  the  skulls  of  intruders  for  their 
supply  of  drinking  cups.  For  a general  history  of 
the  continent,  from  the  time  of  the  old  navigators 
who  discovered  the  coast  of  America  when  they  were 
looking  for  India  and  the  Spice  Islands,  down  to  the 
present,  read  South  American  Republics,  by  Thomas 
Dawson.  The  account  of  each  country  is  given  sepa- 
rately. 

Thanks  are  due  to  the  American  Bible  Society  and 
to  the  Presbyterian  Board  of  Foreign  Missions  for  the 
use  of  annual  reports  and  correspondence;  to  the 
librarian  of  Fordham  University  for  permission  to 
read  a rare  book  on  the  life  of  Padre  Anchieta;  and 
to  Mr.  E.  E.  Olcott  for  information  which  has  not 
been  published  before,  given  me  in  an  entertaining 
interview  at  his  office  down  on  the  New  York  water- 
front. 

M.  D. 

Lower  Warner,  New  Hampshire 

August  i,  1916 


- 


. 


FRANCISCO  PIZARRO 


FRANCISCO  PIZARRO 


On  a large  farm  in  Truxillo,  a town  of  old  Spain, 
about  the  time  that  Columbus  discovered  America, 
young  Francisco  Pizarro  held  the  useful  but  unro- 
mantic position  of  swineherd.  His  parents  cared 
nothing  for  him,  he  hardly  knew  what  a piece  of 
money  looked  like,  no  one  ever  thought  of  teaching 
him  to  read  or  write;  but  his  heart  was  full  of  pluck, 
and  his  head  of  vague  plans  for  great  adventures. 
Those  were  exciting  years  in  Spain,  for  wonderful 
stories  of  her  new  possessions  poured  across  the 
Atlantic,  and  certainly  lost  nothing  in  glamour  and 
romance  as  they  were  repeated.  Sailing  off  to  an 
unknown  land  on  an  uncharted  sea  held  no  terrors  for 
Pizarro,  and  the  rumors  of  gold-mines  sounded  pleas- 
antly in  his  ears.  Fired  with  ambition  to  begin  life 
afresh,  in  1509  he  set  out  from  Seville  for  the  New 
World  where  all  men  stood  an  equal  chance  of  win- 
ning fame  and  treasure.  His  baggage  consisted  of  a 
sword  and  a cloak.  His  two  sole  assets  were  pure 
grit,  and  a dogged  perseverance  that  knocked  difficul- 
ties out  of  the  way  like  ninepins. 

As  yet  only  a small  fragment  of  America  had  been 
explored:  the  West  Indies  where  Columbus  landed 
on  his  first  voyage;  the  Atlantic  coast  region  of 


3 


4 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


what  is  now  Central  America;  and  the  neighboring 
South  American  shore  to  the  east  of  the  Isthmus  of 
Panama,  or  Darien  as  it  was  called  then.  By  the  end 
of  ten  years  Pizarro  was  neither  rich  nor  famous,  but 
he  had  made  a name  and  place  for  himself  in  the  new 
colony,  and  was  engaged  in  raising  cattle  with  a busi- 
ness partner  named  Almagro.  He  owned  his  own 
house  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city  of  Panama,  his  farm 
and  his  Indian  servants,  and  was  held  “as  one  of  the 
principal  people  in  the  land  . . . having  distinguished 
himself  in  the  conquest  and  settling,  and  in  the  ser- 
vices of  his  Majesty.”  During  these  years  Pizarro  had 
many  times  experienced  the  emergencies  and  hard- 
ships of  the  explorer’s  life,  and  he  had  seen  before 
his  eyes  the  rainbow  vision  of  gold.  A hard  worker, 
afraid  of  nothing  under  the  sun,  always  dependable, 
he  became  the  right-hand  man  of  Balboa,  who  was  a 
leading  spirit  in  many  excursions  over  the  isthmus. 

Balboa,  unlike  most  of  these  Spanish  leaders,  was 
diplomatic  in  his  relations  with  the  Indians,  and  soon 
made  friends  with  the  caciques,  or  chiefs,  of  neigh- 
boring tribes.  It  was  in  15 11,  when  they  were  paying 
a visit  in  the  home  of  a powerful  cacique  named 
Comogre,  that  Pizarro  and  Balboa  first  heard  the 
dazzling  tale  of  the  wealth  of  Peru.  As  a polite  little 
attention  their  host  presented  them  with  many  golden 
trinkets.  At  this  windfall  the  guests  completely  lost 
their  heads  and  good  manners  and  began  such  a “brab- 
bling” about  the  dividing  of  the  gold,  that  the  digni- 
fied Indians  listened  in  astonishment  and  disgust. 


FRANCISCO  PIZARRO 


5 


Finally,  as  the  chief’s  son  stood  watching  the  beautiful 
ornaments  being  weighed  and  haggled  over  as  if  each 
Spaniard’s  life  depended  on  grabbing  the  most,  he  lost 
his  temper  and  struck  the  scales  with  his  fist  As  the 
gold  scattered  about  the  room  he  cried  the  fateful 
words  which  led  to  the  conquest  of  Peru : 

“What  is  this,  Christians;  is  it  for  such  a little 
thing  that  you  quarrel?  If  this  is  what  you  prize  so 
much  that  you  are  willing  to  leave  your  distant  homes 
and  to  risk  life  itself,  I can  tell  you  of  a land  where 
they  eat  and  drink  out  of  golden  vessels,  and  gold  is 
as  cheap  as  iron  is  with  you.”  The  Indian  prince 
pointed  toward  the  west,  and  told  about  a sea  of 
which  the  white  men  had  never  heard.  It  lay  beyond 
the  mountains  of  the  isthmus,  and  whoever  would 
find  the  land  of  gold  must  sail  south  for  a distance  of 
six  suns.  “But,”  he  added,  “it  is  necessary  for  this 
that- you  should  be  more  in  number  than  you  are  now, 
for  you  would  have  to  fight  your  way  with  great 
kings.” 

Two  years  later  Balboa  proved  the  truth  of  the 
Indian’s  words  when  he  crossed  the  isthmus  and  dis- 
covered the  Pacific  Ocean.  Pizarro,  his  chief  lieu- 
tenant, was  the  first  man  to  scramble  after  him  to  the 
top  of  a high  peak  and  look  down  upon  the  southern 
sea.  When  this  news  reached  the  court  of  Spain  the 
king  appointed  a governor  named  Pedrarias  to  go  to 
the  isthmus  and  superintend  the  sending  out  of  expe- 
ditions to  the  south.  Hundreds  of  adventurers  clam- 
ored to  sail  with  him,  for  they  had  heard  that  in  the 


6 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


New  World  “the  sands  sparkled  with  gems,  and  golden 
pebbles  as  large  as  birds’  eggs  were  dragged  in  nets 
out  of  the  rivers.” 

The  1,500  men  who  set  out  for  Panama  with  such 
high  hopes  found  disease  and  fever  instead  of  gems, 
and  hunger  instead  of  gold.  In  the  first  month  700 
died.  The  cavaliers  in  their  brocaded  court  costumes 
could  be  seen  in  the  streets  choking  down  grass  to 
keep  themselves  alive,  or  trying  to  exchange  a gor- 
geous embroidered  cloak  for  a pound  of  Indian  meal. 
As  time  went  on  a few  adventurers  who  had  sailed  a 
little  way  down  the  coast  brought  back  gloomy  reports, 
and  most  of  the  colonists  had  had  enough  of  expedi- 
tions which  usually  turned  out  to  be  all  danger  and  no 
reward.  Pizarro  saw  his  opportunity.  He  was  over 
fifty  years  old  then,  but  he  had  lost  none  of  his  adven- 
turous spirit,  and  if  there  was  any  gold  in  Peru  he 
determined  to  find  it. 

In  1524  he  and  his  partner  sold  their  farm,  and 
with  a third  associate  formed  a company  to  fit  out  an 
expedition.  Each  promised  to  contribute  his  entire 
fortune,  and  since  Pizarro  had  the  least  money  he 
agreed  to  do  the  most  dangerous  part  of  the  work, 
the  taking  command  of  the  exploring  party.  It  was 
almost  impossible  to  find  volunteers,  and  the  crew  had 
to  be  made  up  largely  of  newcomers  who  had  no  idea 
what  lay  in  store  for  them,  and  “black  sheep”  who 
felt  that  they  could  be  no.  worse  off  than  they  already 
were. 

By  the  end  of  the  year  one  little  ship  was  tossing  its 


FRANCISCO  PIZARRO 


7 


way  through  heavy  tempests  along  the  shores  of  an 
unknown  land,  and  one  hundred  miserable  men  were 
complaining  bitterly  because  Pizarro  had  brought 
them  on  a wild-goose  chase.  They  had  found  neither 
food  nor  inhabitants,  only  tangled,  dripping  forests 
and  vast  swamps.  Sheets  of  rain  closed  in  about  them 
day  and  night;  they  could  see  nothing  but  the  black, 
angry  ocean  and  gray  sky;  none  knew  where  they 
were  going  or  what  worse  horrors  lay  in  store  for 
them.  The  ship  had  to  be  sent  back  for  supplies  and 
while  it  was  gone  twenty-seven  of  the  men  who 
remained  behind  with  Pizarro  died  of  exposure  and 
starvation.  When  they  finally  discovered  a few  soli- 
tary hamlets,  the  Indians  were  suspicious  and  un- 
friendly and  attacked  the  little  party.  Only  Pizarro’s 
fierce  bravery,  so  spectacular  that  it  awed  the  Indians, 
saved  the  expedition  from  ending  then  and  there.  No 
explorers  ever  chose  a worse  time  of  year  or  wore  a 
more  inappropriate  costume;  there  in  the  dreadful 
humidity  of  the  rainy  season,  right  in  the  region  of 
the  equator,  these  poor  soldiers,  every  time  they  landed 
to  search  for  food  or  villages,  had  to  drag  along  as 
best  they  could  under  the  weight  of  full  suits  of 
armor. 

It  was  all  a dismal  failure,  but  Pizarro  had  not 
the  slightest  intention  of  going  back  empty-handed. 
Instead  he  went  back  part  of  the  way  and  waited  until 
another  expedition  could  be  organized  by  his  partners. 
Then  he  started  out  all  over  again.  For  500  miles  he 
sailed  along  the  coast  of  what  is  now  Colombia,  and 


8 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


the  farther  his  ship  went  the  more  mythical  seemed  the 
great  empire  he  was  seeking.  Again  and  again  the 
ship  would  have  to  be  sent  back  for  supplies  or  repairs, 
while  Pizarro  and  some  of  his  men  stayed  behind  in 
the  midst  of  every  danger  of  disease,  starvation  and 
Indians.  Through  all  these  periods  of  desolate  wait- 
ing Pizarro  never  allowed  himself  to  show  a moment’s 
discouragement  before  his  soldiers.  No  one  worked 
harder  than  he  in  foraging  for  food,  and  in  caring 
for  those  who  were  too  weak  to  look  out  for  them- 
selves. “In  labors  and  dangers  he  was  ever  the  first.” 
Whenever  he  had  a chance  he  would  remind  the  men 
of  the  great  rewards  that  lay  before  them,  the  gold 
they  were  going  to  find,  and  the  triumph  of  bringing 
it  home  to  show  the  scoffers  in  Panama. 

When  the  ship  returned  they  would  sail  a little 
farther.  One  time  when  Pizarro  landed,  hoping  to 
have  a chat  with  the  Indians,  an  ominous  troop  of 
warriors  gathered  on  the  beach.  The  only  thing  that 
saved  the  Spaniards,  too  few  in  number  to  protect 
themselves,  was  a cavalier  who  fell  off  his  horse.  The 
Indians  had  never  seen  a horse  before,  and  supposed 
that  horse  and  rider  were  all  one  great  monster. 
When  they  saw  it  divide  into  two  pieces  they  fell  back 
in  alarm  and  the  Spaniards  had  time  to  hurry  on 
board  their  ship. 

The  greatest  difficulty  always  came  when  Almagro 
would  go  back  for  supplies.  On  one  occasion  the 
soldiers,  angry  at  the  thought  of  another  long,  miser- 
able wait,  wrote  letters  to  their  friends  protesting 


FRANCISCO  PIZARRO 


9 


against  “the  cold-blooded  manner  in  which  they  were 
to  be  sacrificed  to  the  obstinate  cupidity  of  their 
leaders.”  These  letters  Pizarro  ordered  to  be  de- 
stroyed, but  one  ingenious  soul  wrote  a gloomy  account 
of  all  their  sufferings  and  hid  it  in  a ball  of  wool  which 
he  sent  to  the  governor’s  wife  as  a sample  of  a 
product  of  the  country.  He  added  a postscript  in 
the  form  of  a rhyme  which  caused  great  excitement 
in  Panama: 

“Look  out,  Senor  Governor, 

For  the  drover  while  he’s  near; 

Since  he  goes  home  to  get  the  sheep 
For  the  butcher  who  stays  here.’’ 

This  not  only  prevented  any  new  volunteers  from 
joining  the  expedition,  but  the  governor  was  so  enraged 
at  the  loss  of  life  and  at  Pizarro’s  stubbornness  that  he 
sent  off  two  ships  with  orders  for  every  Spaniard  to 
return.  When  the  ships  came  to  take  them  back  to 
home  and  comfort,  Pizarro  and  his  men  were  half 
dead  with  hunger  and  exposure,  and  so  haggard  and 
unkempt  that  they  were  hardly  recognizable. 

Pizarro  had  sunk  his  whole  fortune  in  this  enter- 
prise. His  good  name  depended  on  it.  He  was  not 
a young  man  with  the  world  before  him.  Life  would 
hold  nothing  more  if  this  great  hazard  failed.  It  was 
an  investment  and  he  intended  to  collect  the  dividends. 
With  the  ships  riding  at  anchor  behind  him,  he  stood 
on  the  beach  and  faced  his  little  company.  Draw- 
ing his  sword  he  traced  a line  in  the  sand  from  east 
to  west.  “Friends  and  comrades,”  he  said,  pointing 


IO  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 

with  his  sword  as  he  spoke,  “on  that  side  are  toil, 
hunger,  fatigue,  the  drenching  storm,  desertion  and 
death ; on  this  side  ease  and  pleasure.  There  lies  Peru 
with  its  riches ; here,  Panama  and  its  poverty.  Choose, 
each  man,  what  best  becomes  a brave  Castilian.  For 
my  part  I go  to  the  south.”  And  he  stepped  across  the 
line.  Thirteen  others  followed  him  and  together  they 
stood  and  watched  the  ships,  bearing  their  compan- 
ions, vanish  on  the  horizon.  They  had  no  food,  no 
shelter,  only  the  clothes  they  wore,  no  ship  to  take  them 
farther,  and  they  knew  nothing  of  the  empire  they 
were  seeking.  Building  a crude  raft,  they  conveyed 
themselves  to  an  island  not  far  off  where  they  were 
able  to  shoot  game  with  their  crossbows,  and  there  for 
seven  months  they  waited  for  help  to  come. 

Meanwhile  the  two  partners  in  Panama  argued  with 
the  stubborn  old  governor  until  they  won  his  consent  to 
fit  out  a relief  ship  on  condition  that  within  six  months 
Pizarro  return  and  report  what  he  had  been  able  to 
accomplish.  It  was  on  this  little  ship  that  Pizarro 
reached  Peru  and  the  Empire  of  the  Incas. 

Just  three  years  after  he  had  sailed  from  Panama, 
Pizarro  anchored  off  Tumbez,  on  the  Gulf  of  Guay- 
aquil, about  where  Ecuador  joins  Peru  to-day,  and  sent 
friendly  messages  and  presents  to  the  Indians.  The 
messenger  returned  with  such  marvelous  stories  of 
wealth  that  none  believed  him  until  they  had  seen  for 
themselves.  There  were  houses  of  stone,  vessels  of 
gold  and  silver,  a temple  lined  with  plates  of  gold,  and 
gardens  adorned  with  animals  carved  from  gold.  The 


FRANCISCO  PIZARRO 


ii 


Spaniards  went  wild  with  joy;  the  last  grumbling 
skeptic  had  to  admit  that  they  had  found  their  El 
Dorado.  The  Indians  were  generous  and  hospitable, 
and  when  the  six  months  were  nearly  over  Pizarro  had 
been  presented  with  enough  gold  ornaments  and  llamas 
to  convince  any  one  of  the  glorious  success  of  his  expe- 
dition, and  he  returned  to  Panama  in  triumph.  But 
a new  governor  now  held  sway  on  the  isthmus,  and  he 
refused  to  be  impressed  with  Pizarro’s  report.  “I 
have  no  desire  to  build  up  other  states  at  the  expense 
of  my  own,”  he  told  them ; “nor  throw  away  more  lives 
than  have  already  been  sacrificed  by  the  cheap  display 
of  gold  and  silver  toys  and  a few  Indian  sheep.”  The 
three  partners  had  no  more  money.  Yet  there  lay  the 
magic  empire  waiting  to  be  plundered,  the  greatest 
prize  a nation  ever  dreamed  of  appropriating.  Pizarro 
made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  Spain  and  tell  his  wonderful 
story  to  the  king,  Charles  V,  carrying  with  him  speci- 
mens of  the  treasures  he  had  found.  Charles, 
impressed  with  the  sincerity  and  reliability  of  the  rough 
old  soldier,  appointed  him  governor  of  Peru  with  the 
title  of  marquis,  and  put  into  his  capable  hands  the 
double  duty  of  converting  the  Indians  and  stealing 
their  empire. 

This  race  of  Indians,  whose  country  stretched  for 
2,000  miles  along  the  western  coast,  were  far  more 
intelligent  and  civilized  than  any  other  natives  of  the 
western  hemisphere  with  the  exception  of  the  Aztecs 
of  Mexico.  Their  government  was  orderly  and  pros- 
perous, a veritable  Utopia  founded  upon  implicit  obe- 


12 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


dience  to  their  king,  called  the  Inca,  and  devoted  wor- 
ship of  their  deity,  the  sun-god.  Land  and  work  were 
allotted  to  the  head  of  each  family,  and  rigid  laws  pro- 
tected the  lives  and  rights  of  the  people.  Not  a foot 
of  land  was  wasted.  By  a remarkable  system  of  irri- 
gation dry  ground  was  prepared  for  cultivation;  the 
Indians  had  spent  years  of  labor  in  making  land  by 
carrying  earth  in  baskets  and  covering  up  the  bare 
rocks.  Their  fine  roads  and  fortresses,  and  the  plen- 
tiful provisions  of  grain  which  they  thriftily  stored 
away  in  their  great  granaries  each  year  were  used  to 
good  purpose  by  the  Spaniards  and  in  no  small  degree 
helped  them  in  the  conquest. 

Within  two  years  the  conquerors,  or  conquistadores , 
though  at  no  time  numbering  more  than  300,  had  sub- 
dued these  hordes  of  prosperous,  contented  Indians, 
and  had  replaced  the  Inca  dynasty  with  the  first 
Spanish  viceroyalty.  The  real  stimulus  behind  all 
their  bravery  and  sacrifice  was  wealth  and  fame ; relig- 
ion was  their  ostensible  reason  for  the  conquest,  and 
in  the  name  of  the  Church  they  practised  all  the  cruel- 
ties and  treacheries  necessary  to  crush  the  empire. 

When  Pizarro  arrived  in  Peru  an  Inca  had  just  died 
and  bequeathed  his  kingdom  to  two  sons  who  were 
now  fighting  each  other.  In  the  midst  of  the  war 
Atahualpa,  Inca  of  the  northern  half,  heard  that  a 
party  of  strange  white  men  had  landed  in  his  country, 
that  they  carried  extraordinary  weapons,  and  rode 
upon  great,  terrifying  beasts  which  galloped  over  the 
ground  with  marvelous  speed.  He  consented  to  an 


FRANCISCO  PIZARRO 


13 


interview  with  the  white  chief.  With  a force  of  about 
150  soldiers  the  dauntless  Pizarro  struck  into  the  heart 
of  the  Indian  territory.  In  the  native  city  of  Caja- 
marca,  200  miles  south  of  San  Miguel,  the  first  Spanish 
settlement,  he  met  the  Inca. 

Pizarro  had  conceived  a plan  so  daring  that  an- 
other man  would  never  have  dreamed  of  its  possibility. 
He  believed  there  was  only  one  way  for  so  small  a 
band  of  men  to  conquer  so  great  a nation.  Atahualpa 
must  be  kidnapped.  The  Indians  from  the  beginning 
of  their  national  existence  had  been  so  completely 
under  the  domination  of  their  Inca,  whom  they  believed 
to  be  a divine  being,  that  without  him  they  must  fall 
into  utter  confusion.  If,  as  Pizarro  reasoned,  the  Inca 
with  his  huge  armies  had  treacherous  designs  on  the 
Spaniards,  their  only  hope  lay  in  trapping  Atahualpa 
before  he  could  trap  them.  In  the  open  square  in  the 
middle  of  the  city  he  pitched  his  camp  and  sent  word 
to  the  Inca  that  he  was  waiting  to  receive  him  as  “a 
friend  and  a brother.” 

The  next  morning  the  royal  procession  passed 
through  the  city  gates.  First  came  300  Indian  boys 
with  bows  and  arrows,  singing,  followed  by  1,000  men 
resplendent  in  livery  of  red  and  white  squares  like  a 
chess-board.  Other  troops  wore  pure  white  and  carried 
silver  hammers.  Eighty  chiefs  in  costumes  of  azure 
blue  bore  the  glittering  throne  of  the  Inca  in  an  open 
litter  high  above  their  heads.  As  Atahualpa  ap- 
proached the  square  not  a Spanish  soldier  was  in  sight, 
but  a priest,  Pizarro’s  chaplain,  stepped  forward  to 


i4  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 

greet  him,  with  a Bible  in  one  hand  and  a crucifix  in 
the  other.  The  pope,  he  announced  briskly,  had  com- 
missioned the  greatest  monarch  on  earth  to  conquer 
and  convert  this  land  and  people,  and  in  a learned  theo- 
logical discourse  he  pointed  out  to  the  Indians  the 
necessity  of  being  baptized  at  once.  The  Inca  gravely 
inquired  where  he  had  learned  these  things. 

“In  this,”  said  the  priest,  handing  him  the  Bible. 

The  Inca  opened  the  book  eagerly  and  held  it  up  to 
his  ear. 

“This  is  silent,”  he  said.  “It  tells  me  nothing,”  and 
he  threw  it  to  the  ground. 

This  so  enraged  the  priest  that  he  cried  to  the  Span- 
iards: “To  arms,  Christians,  to  arms!  Set  on  at  once! 
I absolve  you.” 

The  governor  gave  the  signal  and  the  soldiers  rushed 
from  their  hiding-places.  With  their  horses,  muskets 
and  swords,  they  terrified  and  slaughtered  the  helpless 
Indians  until  they  fled  in  confusion.  Pizarro  himself 
snatched  the  Inca  from  his  throne  and  carried  him  off 
to  the  Spanish  camp. 

The  governor  treated  the  prisoner  with  much  kind- 
ness. The  Indian  was  quick  and  intelligent.  In 
twenty  days  he  had  learned  enough  Spanish  to  con- 
verse with  his  jailers,  and  was  a good  match  for  them 
in  chess  and  cards.  He  soon  perceived  that  what  the 
Spaniards  were  after  was  gold.  One  day  he  made  a 
bargain  with  Pizarro.  In  return  for  his  freedom  he 
promised  to  fill  the  whole  room  in  which  they  were 
standing  as  high  as  he  could  reach  with  gold  orna- 


I 


FRANCISCO  PIZARRO 


15 


merits.  The  room  was  seventeen  feet  wide  and  twenty- 
two  feet  long,  and  the  point  he  had  touched  on  the  wall 
was  nine  feet  from  the  floor.  He  dispatched  his  mes- 
sengers to  all  parts  of  the  empire,  and  the  Spaniards 
marveled  at  the  treasure  which  was  being  heaped  up 
in  their  camp  without  effort  on  their  part.  As  the 
gold  in  the  room  rose  higher  and  higher  they  became 
too  impatient  to  wait  until  all  of  it  had  been  brought; 
they  began  the  melting  and  weighing.  When  all  was 
ready  for  division  the  entire  amount  was  valued  at  the 
equivalent  of  $15,500,000,  the  largest  sum  in  gold 
that  men  ever  saw  in  one  place  at  one  time.  One  fifth 
had  to  be  reserved  for  the  crown ; the  rest  was  divided 
among  the  men.  The  outcome  of  the  adventure  was 
far  greater  than  the  wildest  hopes  and  dreams  of  those 
who  shared  in  it. 

Now  that  Atahualpa  had  paid  his  magnificent  ran- 
som he  naturally  demanded  his  freedom.  But  Pizarro 
knew  too  well  the  danger  of  allowing  the  Inca  to 
return  to  his  own  people.  On  the  pretext  of  punish- 
ment for  conspiracy,  of  which  there  was  never  one 
particle  of  evidence,  he  was  condemned  to  death  after 
the  formality  of  a mock  trial. 

“What  have  I or  my  children  done,  that  I should 
meet  such  a fate?  From  your  hands  too,”  he  said 
to  Pizarro;  “you,  who  have  met  with  friendship  and 
kindness  from  my  people,  with  whom  I have  shared 
my  treasures,  who  have  received  nothing  but  benefits 
from  me!” 

Pizarro  was  not  the  man  to  allow  any  feelings  of 


16  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 

sympathy  to  stand  in  the  way  of  his  great  enterprise. 
Atahualpa,  the  last  of  the  Inca  dynasty,  was  strangled 
in  the  public  square.  There  were  many  fierce  battles 
with  the  Indians  after  that  time,  but  they  never  recov- 
ered their  power.  They  had  always  been  dominated 
by  any  force  which  they  believed  mightier  than  them- 
selves— their  Inca,  the  sun-god,  and  now  the  Spaniards. 
They  never  really  believed  they  were  capable  of  resist- 
ing the  white  men  whom  they  thought  so  vastly  superior 
to  themselves;  and  this  racial  lack  of  self-confidence 
was  the  reason  for  their  downfall. 

Associated  with  Pizarro  in  the  conquest  were  his 
three  brothers,  all  as  valiant  and  persevering  as  him- 
self. While  they  took  command  of  the  Spanish  troops, 
the  governor  with  his  extraordinary  executive  ability 
began  to  plan  for  settlements  and  cities.  In  a fine 
strategical  position,  near  the  coast  and  connected  with 
the  Indian  cities  by  the  Inca’s  military  roads,  Pizarro 
founded  Lima.  All  the  Indians  living  within  a hun- 
dred-mile radius  were  mustered  to  lay  out  streets  and 
build  houses.  Farther  up  the  coast  Truxillo,  named 
after  the  governor’s  birthplace,  was  founded  as  head- 
quarters for  the  northern  region. 

The  soldiers  explored  in  all  directions,  plundering 
palaces  and  temples  in  their  search  for  gold.  In  Cuzco, 
capital  of  the  empire,  they  found  a mine  of  wealth 
in  every  building,  and  in  a cavern  near  the  city,  where 
the  Indians  had  tried  to  conceal  them,  they  found  ten 
statues  of  women  and  four  of  llamas  wrought  from 
gold  and  silver.  “Merely  to  see  them,”  writes  one  of 


FRANCISCO  PIZARRO 


1 7 


the  Spaniards  naively,  “was  truly  a great  satisfaction.” 
As  soon  as  the  Indians  found  what  the  Spaniards 
were  hunting  for,  they  began  to  hide  their  treasures. 
All  the  gold  which  Atahualpa  collected  is  said  to  be 
far  less  than  the  amount  which  the  Indians  buried  or 
threw  into  lakes  because  they  could  no  longer  guard 
it.  Many  years  later  an  Indian  once  took  a large  mea- 
sure of  maize,  and  dropping  one  grain  out  of  it,  said 
to  the  white  men : “The  Christians  have  found  just 
so  much ; the  rest  is  so  concealed  that  we  ourselves  do 
not  know  the  place  of  it.” 

The  rough  soldiers,  most  of  whom  had  never  known 
what  it  meant  to  have  money  to'  spend,  now  became 
habitual  gamblers,  and  many  a night  with  one  throw 
of  the  dice  or  flip  of  a card  a man  would  lose  all  the 
treasure  he  had  sacrificed  so  much  to  win. 

As  the  news  of  the  conquest  reached  Europe  other 
adventurers  flocked  to  Peru.  One  of  them  wrote : “I 
determined  to  go  to  Peru,  a newly  discovered  land, 
where  there  is  an  infinite  quantity  of  gold.  But  the 
gold  is  not  to  be  obtained  for  nothing,  for  80  men 
out  of  every  ioo  who  go  in  search  of  it  die.  It  is  very 
certain  that  a great  prize  is  never  gained  at  small  cost.” 
Another  cavalier  told  his  friends : “I  declare,  on  my 
faith  that,  if  they  offered  to  make  me  a king  on  con- 
dition that  I went  through  all  this  again,  I would  not 
do  it,  but  I would  rather  be  a doctor’s  stirrup  boy.” 
While  Pizarro  was  building  his  city  of  Lima,  he 
heard  that  Cuzco  had  been  burned  to  the  ground  by 
the  Indians,  and  that  his  brothers  were  holding  the 


i8 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


fortress  against  the  besiegers.  Before  he  could  send 
them  aid  worse  news  reached  him.  Almagro,  who  had 
been  granted  by  royal  permit  the  privilege  of  con- 
quering and  plundering  the  southern  half  of  the 
empire,  where  Chile  is  to-day,  had  returned  from  a 
fruitless  journey.  The  tribes  in  the  south,  which  had 
been  subdued  previously  by  the  Incas,  were  poor  and 
ignorant,  and  Almagro  was  dissatisfied  with  his  share 
of  the  bargain.  Finding  Pizarro’s  men  in  Cuzco  worn 
out  after  their  months  of  fighting,  he  attacked  them 
and  took  the  city  himself.  Civil  war  now  supplanted 
Indian  wars.  The  two  Spanish  factions  engaged  in  a 
fiercer  battle  than  the  natives  had  ever  seen,  and  from 
the  surrounding  heights  the  Indian  spectators  yelled  in 
triumph  as  they  watched  their  enemies  kill  each  other. 
Almagro  was  captured  and  executed  by  the  orders  of 
one  of  the  brothers,  Hernando  Pizarro,  the  governor 
refusing  to  intercede  to  save  the  life  of  his  old  friend 
and  business  partner. 

The  followers  of  Almagro,  called  “Men  of  Chile,” 
who  had  shared  their  leader’s  ambitions,  were  bitter 
enemies  of  Pizarro  and  stirred  up  much  discontent 
in  Lima.  The  governor  was  constantly  warned  of  his 
personal  danger  from  conspiracies  and  urged  to  banish 
the  offenders  from  the  colony,  but  he  hardly  gave  the 
matter  a second  thought.  “Be  in  no  pain,”  he  told  his 
friends,  “about  my  life;  it  is  perfectly  safe  as  long  as 
every  man  in  Peru  knows  that  I can  in  a moment  cut 
off  any  head  which  dares  to  harbor  a thought  against 


FRANCISCO  PIZARRO 


19 


One  day  in  June,  1541,  while  Pizarro  was  dining 
with  twenty  guests  in  his  own  house,  a band  of  “Men 
of  Chile”  broke  into  the  entrance  hall.  “To  arms! 
The  Men  of  Chile  are  coming  to  kill  the  marquis !” 
cried  a page.  Most  of  the  guests  dropped  through 
the  open  windows  into  the  garden  below.  Pizarro 
rushed  forward  to  meet  the  assassins  as  they  poured 
into  the  dining-room.  “What  shameful  thing  is  this?” 
he  cried.  “Why  do  you  wish  to  kill  me?”  He  was 
over  seventy  years  old,  but  he  fought  so  valiantly  that 
the  struggle  lasted  several  minutes,  and  two  of  the 
conspirators  were  killed.  Then  some  one  exclaimed : 
“Why  are  we  so  long  about  it?  Down  with  the  ty- 
rant!” and  they  dashed  his  brains  out  upon  the  stone 
floor.  “The  old  lion  died  fighting  and,  in  his  death 
agonies,  kissed  the  sign  of  the  cross,  which  he  traced 
on  the  floor,  in  blood  which  flowed  from  his  own 
veins.” 

The  Men  of  Chile  poured  into  the  streets  at  the 
news  of  the  governor’s  death  and  took  possession  of 
the  city. 

A viceroy  was  sent  out  by  the  king  to  rule  in  Pizar- 
ro’s  place,  and  as  settlers  began  to  flock  to  the  new 
country,  Spanish  colonies  grew  up  like  magic.  The  in- 
vaders became  a ruling  caste  dependent  for  their  liveli- 
hood on  the  unpaid  labor  of  their  Indian  serfs,  who 
worked  the  mines  and  tilled  the  land  which  had  once 
been  their  own.  The  race,  but  a few  years  back  so 
contented  and  prosperous,  became  a race  of  slaves,  al- 
most without  exception  treated  harshly  or  cruelly  by 


20 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


their  masters.  The  atrocities  of  Spanish  officials  two 
and  three  hundred  years  later,  Janies  Bryce  says,  “were 
at  once  the  evidence  of  what  Spanish  rule  in  Peru  had 
been  and  a prestige  of  its  fall.  . . . There  were  dark 
sides  to  the  ancient  civilization,  but  was  it  worth  de- 
stroying in  order  to  erect  on  its  ruins  what  the  Con- 
querors brought  to  Peru?” 


JOSE  DE  ANCHIETA 


JOS£  DE  ANCHIETA 


In  the  midst  of  the  ancient  forests  of  Misiones,  a 
province  in  northern  Argentina,  half  hidden  by  banks 
of  gorgeous  wildflowers  and  riots  of  shrub  and  fern, 
are  a few  remnants  of  dark  stone  wall,  and  bits  of 
broken,  moss-covered  statue — all  that  is  left  of  the 
busy  Jesuit  mission  towns  which  once  stretched  from 
the  coast  of  Brazil  inland  to  the  Paraguay  and 
Parana  Rivers.  To  this  remote  region  of  the  world 
the  Jesuit  priests  had  first  penetrated  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  and  collected  the  wild,  roving  Tupi-Guarani 
Indians  into  peaceful  villages  with  such  ease  and 
dispatch  that  “every  one  published  that  the  new  order, 
whose  founder  was  born  at  the  time  Christopher 
Columbus  began  to  discover  the  new  world,  had  re- 
ceived from  heaven  a special  mission.” 

The  Franciscan  monks  who  came  to  South  America 
with  the  conquistadores  had  forced  their  religion  upon 
the  Indians.  A few  had  even  dared  to  say  a good 
word  for  the  poor  natives,  and  a Dominican  bishop 
named  Las  Casas  had  fiercely  championed  their  cause 
in  Mexico  and  Peru;  but  the  first  concentrated  effort 
to  make  the  Indians  contented  and  industrious,  as  they 
had  been  before  ever  the  white  man  appeared,  and  to 
protect  them  from  the  cruel  exploitation  of  Portu- 

23 


24 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


guese  and  Spanish  settlers,  was  this  great  enterprise 
of  the  Jesuit  fathers,  the  earliest  missionaries  on  the 
continent. 

First  they  came  to  the  Brazilian  coast.  Brazil  was 
not  Spanish  territory  like  all  the  rest  of  the  New 
World.  A Portuguese  nobleman  named  Cabral  had 
happened  upon  the  eastern  shores  of  South  America 
while  he  was  trying  to  find  the  East  Indies.  A year 
later  Amerigo  Vespucci  hurried  across  from  Lisbon  to 
inspect  this  new  piece  of  Portuguese  property,  and  he 
called  the  country  Brazil,  because,  instead  of  the  gold 
and  silver  he  wanted,  he  found  nothing  of  commercial 
value  except  brazil-wood,  used  in  Europe  for  dyes. 
One  of  the  earliest  large  settlements  in  Brazil  was 
built  up  on  the  capacious  Bay  of  Bahia,  and  when,  in 
1549,  several  hundred  colonists  came  to  live  there, 
among  them  were  a number  of  Jesuits,  sent  by  John 
III  of  Portugal  to  convert  the  Indians,  just  as  the 
Franciscans  had  been  sent  with  the  Spaniards  by 
Charles  V. 

The  priests  were  assigned  plots  of  land  and  with 
their  own  hands  chopped  trees,  sawed  wood,  hauled 
stones,  and  built  a church,  a college,  and  small  houses 
for  themselves.  By  that  time  their  clothes  hung  in 
rags,  they  had  no  money,  and  often  they  were  reduced 
to  begging  alms.  But  they  had  no  desire  for  prop- 
erty, or  comforts,  or  even  the  necessities  of  life.  By 
law  of  their  order,  self-denial  and  the  “acquisition 
of  eternal  goods”  were  the  sole  aims  of  a Jesuit.  One 
father  describes  their  early  settlements : “What  houses 


JOSfi  DE  ANCHIETA 


25 


are  these  that  the  clergy  inhabit?  A few  miserable 
straw  huts.  What  furniture  do  they  possess?  The 
breviary  and  manual  to  baptize  and  administer  the 
sacraments.  What  is  their  nourishment?  Mandioca 
root,  beans  and  vegetables;  and  the  majesty  of  God 
is  witness  that  they  have  passed  twenty-four  hours 
without  even  partaking  of  roots,  in  order  not  to  beg 
of  the  Indians  and  thus  become  a burden  to  them.” 
When  a new  governor  was  sent  to  Bahia,  he  brought 
with  him  more  Jesuits,  who  scattered  among  the  In- 
dians in  all  directions,  building  rude  settlements, 
gathering  the  tribes  together,  and  teaching  them  not 
only  good  morals  but  how  to  work  their  farms. 
Among  these  pioneers  was  a pale,  ascetic  youngster, 
Jose  de  Anchieta.  He  had  been  born  in  Teneriffe,  one 
of  the  Canary  Islands,  of  rich  and  aristocratic  parents. 
They  sent  him  at  fourteen  to  the  Portuguese  university 
at  Coimbra,  where  he  won  many  honors,  especially  in 
rhetoric,  poetry  and  philosophy.  His  reputation  for 
brilliancy  reached  the  ears  of  the  Jesuits  who  were 
always  anxious  to  discover  talented  young  proteges, 
and  by  the  time  he  was  seventeen  they  had  persuaded 
him  to  join  their  order  and  begin  training  for  the 
priesthood.  During  his  novitiate,  part  of  his  day’s 
schedule  was  to  attend  mass  eight  times,  and  his  duties 
at  each  service  required  such  constant  kneeling  that 
sometimes  he  would  almost  faint  from  exhaustion 
before  night.  His  knees  grew  lamer  and  lamer,  yet 
he  refused  to  give  in  to  what  he  considered  a wicked 
bodily  weakness,  and  he  kept  his  suffering  secret  until 


26 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


he  became  dangerously  ill.  As  a result  of  this  neglect 
his  spine  was  permanently  injured,  and  all  the  money 
his  father  possessed  could  never  smooth  out  the  hump 
in  his  back.  The  fear  that  he  might  have  to  give  up 
his  training  tortured  him  more  than  all  the  pain  of 
his  three  years  of  illness,  until  he  was  reassured  by 
one  of  the  priests  who  predicted:  “Do  not  worry  so 
about  it,  my  boy,  for  God  intends  that  you  shall  yet 
serve  him  in  this  order.” 

Then  in  1553,  when  the  expedition  was  preparing 
to  sail  from  Lisbon  for  Bahia,  Anchieta’s  friends 
decided  to  send  him  along  for  his  health.  No  one 
knew  much  about  Brazil,  but  glowing  reports  had  con- 
vinced the  Portuguese  that  the  climate  and  food  were 
a sure  cure  for  all  ailments. 

Anchieta  reached  Brazil  eager  to  begin  immediately 
on  some  branch  of  the  mission  work,  and  the  pro- 
vincial, or  chief  Jesuit,  appointed  him  to  go  to  the 
colony  of  Sao  Paulo  to  start  a little  college  for  the 
training  of  young  settlers  who  wished  to  join  the 
order.  There  in  the  wilderness  this  teacher,  twenty- 
one  years  old,  gathered  his  pupils  into  the  first  classical 
school  in  America,  instructing  them  in  Latin,  Spanish, 
and  the  Tupi  language.  Within  a year,  besides  open- 
ing the  school  and  teaching  his  classes,  he  had  found 
time  to  learn  the  Indians’  language,  and  to  write  a 
Tupi  grammar  for  the  use  of  the  Jesuit  missionaries. 

In  the  report  which  he  sent  back  to  the  provincial, 
he  said : “Here  we  are,  sometimes  more  than  twenty 
of  us  together  in  a little  hut  of  mud  and  wicker,  roofed 


27 


JOSfi  DE  ANCHIETA 

with  straw,  fourteen  paces  long  and  ten  wide.  This  is 
at  once  the  school,  the  infirmary,  the  dormitory,  refec- 
tory, kitchen  and  storehouse.  Yet  we  covet  not  the 
more  spacious  dwellings  which  our  brethren  have  in 
other  parts.  Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  was  in  a far 
straiter  place  when  it  was  his  pleasure  to  be  born 
among  beasts  in  a manger.” 

The  little  house  had  no  such  luxury  as  a chimney, 
and  was  usually  so  full  of  smoke  that  the  classes  would 
adjourn  to  the  front  yard  to  recite  under  the  shade 
trees.  A mat,  hung  at  the  entrance,  served  the  purpose 
of  a door,  and  the  pupils  slept  in  hammocks  slung  from 
the  rafters.  Banana  leaves  were  the  only  dishes. 

“I  serve  here  as  barber  and  physician,”  Anchieta 
wrote,  “physicking  and  bleeding  the  Indians,  and  some 
of  them  have  recovered  under  my  hands  when  their 
lives  were  despaired  of.”  He  also  learned  to  make 
alpargatas,  a variety  of  tough  shoe  which  could  stand 
hard  wear.  “I  am  now  a good  workman  at  this,”  he 
said,  “and  have  made  many  for  the  brethren,  for  it 
is  not  possible  to  travel  with  leathern  shoes  among 
these  wilds.” 

There  were  no  textbooks  in  this  little  school.  The 
only  way  of  assigning  lessons  was  for  Anchieta  to 
write  out  on  separate  leaves  copies  enough  to  go 
around.  This  sometimes  took  him  all  night,  and  the 
class,  when  it  arrived  in  the  morning,  would  find  its 
teacher  just  where  he  had  been  the  night  before,  the 
pen  still  in  his  fingers.  For  Anchieta  persistently 
ignored  every  feeling  of  weariness,  and  forced  himself 


28 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


to  go  without  sleep  until  he  grew  accustomed  to  the 
loss  of  it.  For  many  hours  in  the  night  he  would  be 
on  his  knees  in  some  quiet,  remote  spot  under  the 
stars,  praying  for  strength  to  do  all  he  saw  needed 
to  be  done. 

After  the  Tupi  grammar  was  finished,  he  com- 
menced on  a dictionary.  Both  of  these  were  sent  to 
Portugal  and  printed  there  for  the  use  of  Jesuits  who 
were  preparing  to  work  among  the  Indians  in  South 
America.  Anchieta  was  not  only  the  first  scholar  and 
the  first  educator,  but  the  first  poet  in  Brazil  and  the 
father  of  Brazilian  literature.  Instead  of  forbidding 
the  Indians  and  the  townspeople  to  sing  their  merry, 
ribald  ballads,  he  wrote  beautiful  canticles  for  them 
which  became  so  popular  that  the  boys  whistled  them 
on  the  street,  and  they  entirely  took  the  place  of  the 
old  songs.  Some  of  his  hymns,  chanted  daily  by  his 
pupils,  told  whole  Bible  stories  which  he  had  turned 
into  verse. 

Then  he  wrote  a play,  and  the  settlers  came  from 
far  and  wide  to  the  first  theatricals  ever  given  in  the 
New  World.  Like  the  old  English  morality  plays, 
Anchieta’s  comedy  was  presented  for  the  purpose  of 
teaching  the  people  a lesson,  and  he  chose  it  as  the 
most  vivid  way  of  driving  home  a few  good  morals. 
It  was  given  out-of-doors  on  a summer  afternoon. 
The  acts  of  the  play  were  written  in  Portuguese,  but 
interludes  in  Tupi  were  inserted  between  acts  so  that 
the  Indians  in  the  audience  could  follow  the  action. 

The  Jesuit  priests  were  always  supposed  by  the 


JOSfi  DE  ANCHIETA 


29 


simple,  ignorant  people  to  be  capable  of  performing 
wonderful  miracles.  Legends  of  the  supernatural 
powers  which  Anchieta  possessed  would  fill  large 
volumes.  All  the  traditional  wonder-stories  seem  to 
have  collected  about  his  name.  At  this  outdoor  play 
he  first  won  his  reputation.  After  the  people  were 
all  seated  and  the  actors  were  about  to  sally  forth, 
heavy  clouds  gathered,  and  the  audience  was  on  the 
verge  of  rushing  for  shelter  when  Anchieta  appeared 
on  the  stage  and  held  up  his  hand  for  quiet.  There 
would  be  no  rain,  he  said,  until  the  play  wras  over. 
For  three  hours  the  storm  held  off,  and  then,  just  as 
the  last  person  reached  shelter,  the  clouds  broke  and 
the  rain  poured  down. 

Anchieta  really  loved  the  natives  and  they  knew  it. 
He  never  regarded  either  an  Indian  or  a half-breed 
as  an  inferior  being.  They  were  all  his  friends.  Men 
held  him  in  such  reverence  that  they  believed  the 
elements  and  all  living  things  obeyed  his  will.  “The 
birds  of  the  air,”  it  was  said,  “formed  a canopy  over 
his  head  to  shade  him  from  the  sun.  The  fish  came 
into  his  net  when  he  required  them.  The  wild  beasts 
of  the  forests  attended  upon  him  in  his  journeys,  and 
served  him  as  an  escort.  The  winds  and  waves  obeyed 
his  voice.  The  fire,  at  his  pleasure,  undid  the  mischief 
it  had  done,  so  that  bread  which  had  been  burnt  to  a 
coal  in  the  oven  was  drawn  out  white  and  soft  by  his 
interference.” 

Reports  of  his  remarkable  powers  and  his  influence 
over  the  wild  Indians  reached  the  ears  of  the  pro- 


30  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


vincial,  and  he  was  recalled  from  Sao  Paulo  for  pro- 
motion. Though  not  yet  a priest,  he  was  sent  out  on 
journeys  into  the  wilderness  with  the  Jesuit  fathers 
who  went  to  convert  and  collect  into  villages  the  roving 
bands  of  Indians.  One  of  his  feats  which  won  the 
admiration  of  his  order  was  the  conversion  of  an  old 
Indian  reprobate,  aged  one  hundred  years,  who  had 
lived  long  enough,  one  might  suppose,  to  become  set 
in  his  ways. 

In  small  groups,  often  only  two  men  together,  the 
Jesuits  pushed  their  way  through  regions  where  white 
men  had  never  gone,  exploring,  learning  native  cus- 
toms, establishing  settlements.  Those  who  traveled 
with  Anchieta  always  had  a tale  worth  telling  at  the 
end  of  their  trip.  One  time  in  the  mountains  they 
camped  for  the  night  in  a tent.  Toward  dawn  An- 
chieta went  out  to  pray  as  usual  in  the  open  country. 
When  he  returned  to  the  tent  he  took  something  from 
the  store  of  provisions  and  threw  it  outside. 

“There,  my  little  ones!  Take  your  share!”  they 
heard  him  say. 

“Whom  did  you  give  that  to-?”  they  asked. 

“To  my  companions.” 

Next  morning  in  front  of  the  tent  they  found  the 
footprints  of  two  panthers.  While  Anchieta  prayed 
they  had  sat  by  his  side,  then  followed  him  home. 

The  natives  were  easily  attracted  by  the  elaborate 
ceremonies  and  ritual  of  the  church,  by  the  proces- 
sions, the  banners  with  mysterious  words  on  them, 
the  gorgeous  priests’  robes,  the  drums  and  flutes  which 


3i 


JOSE  DE  ANCHIETA 

made  them  want  to  sing  and  march  and  dance.  The 
crude  magnificence  of  the  churches  filled  them  with 
awe.  Religion  to  them  meant  a series  of  delightful 
entertainments  full  of  mystery  and  emotion.  Some- 
times they  were  allowed  to  vary  the  monotony  of  their 
work-a-day  lives  by  a holiday,  which  “appeared  neces- 
sary to  the  missionaries,  as  well  to  preserve  the 
health  of  the  Indians  as  to  keep  up  among  them  an 
air  of  cheerfulness  and  good  humor.”  Besides  all 
these  attractions  the  Jesuit  settlements  were  the  only 
safe  refuges  from  the  plantation  owners  who  wanted 
slave  labor.  No  wonder,  therefore,  they  flourished 
mightily ! 

During  these  years  of  his  wanderings  Anchieta  con- 
stantly exerted  his  influence  to  keep  the  peace  between 
the  Portuguese  and  the  powerful  tribes  of  Tamoyo 
Indians  who  had  formed  themselves  into  a confedera- 
tion to  drive  out  the  settlers,  and  forever  put  a stop 
to  their  slave-hunting.  With  an  immense  war  fleet  of 
canoes,  each  one  formed  of  the  trunk  of  a single  tree, 
they  attacked  and  ravaged  Portuguese  villages.  Young 
Anchieta  and  two  other  Jesuits  volunteered  to  enter 
the  territory  of  the  Tamoyos  and  propose  plans  for  a 
truce.  Fearless  and  unarmed  they  marched  straight 
into  the  haunts  of  the  enemy,  and  stayed  there  two 
months  while  negotiations  were  in  progress.  The 
chiefs  consented  to  the  truce  and  Anchieta  remained 
with  them  three  years  longer  as  a hostage,  pledging 
with  his  life  the  good  faith  of  his  countrymen. 

Sometimes  the  Indians  grew  restless  and  wanted  to 


32 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


break  the  truce.  Those  were  crucial  moments  for  the 
young  Jesuit. 

“Prepare  thyself,”  they  told  him  one  day;  “satiate 
thine  eyes  with  the  light  of  the  sun,  for  we  are  deter- 
mined to  make  a solemn  banquet  of  thee.” 

“No,”  said  Anchieta  calmly.  “You  are  quite  mis- 
taken. The  hour  of  my  death  has  not  yet  come.” 

With  prayer  and  good  works  he  filled  his  days,  and 
gradually  the  Indians  became  his  friends.  “The 
Tamoyos  narrowly  watched  the  conduct  of  the  holy 
young  man,”  says  one  writer,  “and  the  contrast  be- 
tween his  manners  and  their  own  filled  them  with 
wonder  and  admiration.  They  looked  upon  him  as 
something  come  from  heaven  and  they  loved  him  ex- 
ceedingly because  in  their  illnesses  he  taught  them  the 
use  of  different  remedies ; in  addition  to  all  this  several 
prodigies  were  witnessed  by  them,  which  tended  not  a 
little  to  exalt  him  in  their  estimation.” 

In  his  boyhood  Anchieta  had  made  a vow  to  the 
Virgin  to  illustrate  her  life  in  verse.  During  the  years 
of  his  captivity  he  composed  nearly  5,000  stanzas  in 
Latin,  writing  them  out  on  the  sand  and  then  learning 
them  by  heart,  for,  “having  neither  books  nor  pens, 
he  could  only  describe  the  work  on  the  tablets  of  his 
memory.”  This,  his  “Hymn  to  the  Virgin,”  is  one 
of  the  masterpieces  of  religious  poetry. 

After  his  release  Anchieta  served  for  two  years  as 
chaplain  of  an  army  sent  by  the  king  to  protect  his 
colonies  from  the  Tamoyos.  Then  the  provincial 
called  him  back  to  Bahia,  where  his  boyhood  ambition 


JOS£  DE  ANCHIETA  33 

to  become  a priest,  in  spite  of  his  crooked  back,  was 
fulfilled. 

In  the  midst  of  a sermon  one  day  after  he  had 
returned  to  Sao  Paulo,  Anchieta  stopped  abruptly  and 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  After  a pause  he 
seemed  to  recollect  where  he  was.  “Let  every  one  of 
you  recite  the  Lord’s  prayer,”  he  said,  “in  thanksgiv- 
ing to  the  Divine  Goodness  which  has  this  day  granted 
us  victory  over  the  Tamoyos.”  The  people  were 
vastly  astonished  at  this  revelation,  but  when  the  sol- 
diers returned  a few  days  later,  it  was  found  that  the 
battle  had  been  won  just  at  the  moment  when  Anchieta 
halted  his  sermon. 

No  one  in  all  the  community  equaled  Anchieta  in 
pluck  and  energy.  The  districts  where  he  asked  to  go 
on  preaching  trips  were  always  the  most  dangerous 
and  exhausting.  If  any  of  his  flock  went  astray  he 
would  drop  everything  else  and  go  and  search  for 
them.  Once  when  two  Portuguese  soldiers  escaped 
from  jail  and  with  some  of  their  followers  went  off 
into  Indian  territory  to  stir  up  trouble,  he  set  off  after 
them  to  bring  them  back.  On  a stream  in  the  wilder- 
ness his  canoe  was  overturned  in  deep  water,  and 
though  he  was  too  crippled  to  swim,  one  half  hour 
after  the  accident  he  was  sitting  safely  on  the  bank — 
a miracle  which  his  friends  never  tired  of  recounting. 
Anchieta  never  could  tell  them  afterward  just  what 
happened  or  how  he  got  ashore ; he  was  conscious  only 
of  three  things,  one  writer  remarks  naively:  “Christ, 
Mary,  and  not  to  swallow  any  water.”  An  illuminat- 


34 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


ing  little  comment,  perhaps,  on  the  fact  that  with  all 
his  faith  in  the  miraculous,  the  holy  father  had  con- 
siderable common  sense  of  his  own  to  depend  upon  in 
emergencies ! The  story  ends  with  rain  coming  down 
in  torrents,  paths  full  of  rocks  and  brambles,  no  sign 
of  shelter  or  chance  for  a cozy  fire  and  something  to 
eat,  and  at  last,  when  the  dripping,  ragged  priest 
hobbles  into  their  midst,  the  fugitives  straightway  re- 
pent because  they  have  caused  him  so  much  pain,  and 
obediently  follow  him  home. 

To  the  people  of  Sao  Paulo  and  Sao  Vicente,  An- 
chieta had  become  very  nearly  a saint.  The  fame  of 
his  good  deeds,  his  bravery,  his  wonderful  powers, 
spread  far  and  wide,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he 
was  appointed  superior  of  the  Jesuit  colony  of  Santo 
Spirito,  a district  about  half  way  between  Bahia  and 
Sao  Paulo.  Rigid  self-discipline  by  now  had  become 
a habit  with  him.  While  “thinking  on  divine  matters” 
he  forgot  to  eat.  He  slept  on  the  bare  boards  of  his 
dwelling  with  his  shoes,  or  perhaps  a neat  bundle  of 
brambles,  for  a pillow.  The  three  things  he  needed 
the  most  were  a desk,  a pen  and  a horse.  The  first 
two  he  borrowed,  for  of  personal  property  he  wished 
none;  and  he  refused  even  the  gift  of  a poor  old  work 
horse  because  it  would  have  been  too  great  a luxury. 
It  suited  him  better  to  take  his  trusty  staff  and  make 
the  rounds  of  his  district  barefooted.  Day  and  night 
he  was  ready  to  answer  calls  for  medical  aid,  though 
when  he  was  in  great  pain  himself  and  needed  assist- 
ance he  never  could  bear  to  disturb  any  one,  and  by 


35 


JOSfi  DE  ANCHIETA 

sheer  will  power  forced  himself  not  to  call  for  help. 
Yet  Anchieta  was  by  no  means  a doleful  sort  of  per- 
son, and  discomfort  and  illness  seem  never  to  have 
put  an  edge  on  his  disposition.  People  loved  him  for 
his  gayety  and  friendliness  and  the  most  miserable 
old  Indian  in  town  would  cheer  up  when  the  padre 
came  to  pass  the  time  of  day. 

Once  when  walking  with  another  priest  barefooted 
through  muddy  paths,  Anchieta  said  with  a simple 
earnestness:  “Some  of  our  fathers  wish  to  be  over- 
taken by  death  in  this  college  or  that,  hoping  thus  for 
greater  security  at  the  last  moment  and  to  be  helped 
by  the  charity  of  the  brethren;  but  for  my  part,  I could 
not  desire  to  be  in  a better  condition  to  die,  than  to  quit 
life  in  one  of  these  quagmires,  when  sent  by  obedience 
to  the  assistance  of  my  neighbor.” 

By  piety  alone  Anchieta  could  never  have  reached  so 
high  a place  in  the  community  life.  He  was  a good 
business  man,  and  under  him  the  colony  grew  and 
prospered.  It  took  a clear  head  and  a high  order  of 
executive  ability  to  govern  a settlement,  with  its  church 
and  hospital,  its  schools,  its  agricultural  and  industrial 
activities,  and  its  outlying  towns  with  hundreds  of 
Indians,  whose  every  move  had  to  be  directed.  The 
whole  structure  depended  on  the  Jesuits  in  charge. 

In  the  typical  Indian  village  built  up  by  the  Jesuits, 
each  inhabitant  had  his  share  in  the  work  of  the 
colony,  and  his  plot  of  land.  They  were  all  like  happy, 
contented  children  whose  parents  protected  them  and 
amused  them  and  saw  to  it  that  they  were  healthy  and 


36  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


busy.  But  they  had  neither  initiative  nor  self-reliance, 
their  religion  was  grafted  rather  than  deeply  ingrained, 
and  they  became  so  dependent  upon  the  guidance  of 
the  fathers  that  when,  in  the  beginning  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  the  Jesuits  were  gradually  driven  out 
from  Brazil,  the  Indians  fell  into  hopeless  confusion 
and  returned  to  their  old  wild  life  or  were  snapped 
up  by  the  slave-hunters,  while  the  neat  little  villages 
were  left  to  fall  to  pieces  with  neglect.  The  same 
process  was  repeated  when  the  Jesuits  centered  their 
efforts  in  Paraguay  and  northern  Argentina.  Town 
after  town  was  abandoned  and  the  once  prosperous 
Indians  scattered,  when  the  entire  order  was  finally 
driven  out  from  all  South  America  by  royal  decree 
in  1769. 

One  day,  so  tradition  goes,  Anchieta  was  sitting  on 
a log  of  wood  by  the  hearth  fire  with  an  old  woman 
who  had  sent  for  him  to  come  and  hear  her  confes- 
sions. He  was  politely  offered  a stool  in  place  of 
the  log,  but  declined  it.  “A  far  more  uneasy  seat 
awaits  me  than  that  log,”  he  said.  Just  then  a letter 
was  brought  to  him,  sent  post-haste  by  the  provincial, 
directing  him  to  start  for  Bahia  without  delay.  It  said 
nothing  of  the  reason  for  this  order,  but,  with  his 
sixth  sense,  Anchieta  knew.  When  he  arrived  he 
found  them  preparing  to  install  him  as  provincial  of 
all  Brazil. 

For  seven  years  the  little  hump-backed  priest  held 
the  highest  religious  office  in  the  New  World,  and 
Jesuit  power  in  Brazil  reached  its  zenith.  Then,  as  he 


JOSfi  DE  ANCHIETA 


37 


grew  too  ill  and  feeble  to  lead  the  active  life  of  an 
executive,  he  resigned,  and  began  on  a task  of  which 
he  had  always  dreamed,  the  writing  of  a history  of 
the  Society  of  Jesus  in  Brazil. 

In  1597,  just  before  the  power  of  his  order  was 
broken  in  Brazil,  Anchieta,  the  noblest  product  of  as 
fine  and  self-sacrificing  a band  of  missionaries  as  ever 
lived,  died  after  forty-seven  years  of  constant  service, 
dating  from  the  days  of  his  novitiate  in  the  old  univer- 
sity town  of  Portugal.  “His  body  was  carried  and 
accompanied  by  all  the  Indians  of  the  converted 
hordes,  and  by  hundreds  of  inhabitants  who  in  two 
days  traversed,  on  foot,  fourteen  leagues,”  as  far  as 
the  little  coast  town  of  Victoria  in  Santo  Spirito,  his 
burial  place. 

In  the  years  that  followed,  open  war  broke  out.  The 
hatred  of  the  Portuguese  for  the  Jesuits,  who  took 
away  all  their  slave  labor,  reached  the  breaking  point. 
The  government  which,  nominally  at  least,  had  always 
protected  the  priests,  was  not  powerful  enough  to 
hold  back  the  rising  tide  of  rebellion.  To  save  the 
Indians  and  mollify  the  plantation  owners,  negro 
slavery  had  been  introduced.  It  became  the  most 
hideous  blot  on  the  tablets  of  Brazilian  history,  but  it 
accomplished  neither  of  the  results  hoped  from  it. 
The  Indian  settlements  were  destroyed,  and  the  raging 
Paulistas  drove  the  Jesuits  further  and  further  back 
into  the  wilderness  toward  the  borders  of  Paraguay. 

It  was  the  end  of  the  prelude  of  Jesuit  activity  in 
South  America.  During  the  next  century  and  a half 


38  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 

the  order  flourished  in  Paraguay  and  the  province 
of  Misiones — Arcadia,  it  has  been  called — a land  of 
sunshine  and  plenty,  dotted  with  peaceful  little  towns 
where  the  missionaries  had  collected  their  flocks  of 
Indians.  Then  came  the  decree  which  sent  the  Jesuit 
fathers  quietly  and  without  resistance  out  of  the  coun- 
try forever,  and  laid  waste  all  they  had  built  up 
through  the  years.  The  crops  grew  wild,  the  herds 
scattered  and  dwindled,  and  a whole  race  of  natives 
turned  from  civilization  back  to  savagery.  “The  life, 
crafts,  and  arts  of  the  missions  were  no  more.  The 
successors  of  the  Jesuits  found  themselves  flogging  a 
dead  horse.”  The  spirit  of  the  enterprise  had  van- 
ished, and  the  Spanish  money-makers  who  expected 
to  reap  the  profits  of  the  missionaries’  industry  saw 
their  hopes  crumble  away.  The  old  missions,  the  finest 
heritage  of  Catholic  orders  in  South  America,  passed 
into  oblivion. 


JOSfi  DE  SAN  MARTIN 


JOSfi  DE  SAN  MARTIN 
( Equestrian  Statue  in  Santiago,  Chile) 


JOSE  DE  SAN  MARTIN 

A few  years  after  George  Washington  had  won  his 
last  battle  and  the  North  American  colonies  were  lost 
forever  to  Great  Britain,  the  Spanish  colonies  in  South 
America  likewise  began  to  feel  the  oppression  of  their 
mother  country’s  supervision.  The  Spaniards  as  lords 
of  the  land  held  every  desirable  government  position 
and  picked  all  the  plums  of  trade  for  themselves;  while 
the  creoles,  those  who  had  been  born  in  South 
America  of  pure  Spanish  descent,  were  treated  as 
inferior  beings  quite  incapable  of  managing  the  affairs 
of  the  country  which  by  inheritance  belonged  to  them. 

In  Europe  a great  secret  society  had  been  formed 
by  a fiery  South  American  patriot,  Francisco  Miranda, 
who  dreamed  night  and  day  of  freeing  his  country 
from  Spanish  oppression.  The  members  pledged 
themselves  to  work  for  this  end.  Among  the  initiates 
of  this  society  was  Jose  de  San  Martin,  a native  of 
Argentina,  who  had  been  sent  to  Europe  for  a military 
education.  He  had  learned  the  business  of  war  in 
every  branch  of  the  service  during  almost  twenty  years 
of  fighting  in  Spain  and  France,  and  he  had  watched 
the  greatest  generals  of  the  day  manipulate  their  troops 
until  he  too  was  master  of  armies.  Yet  he  had  none 
of  that  spectacular  brilliancy  which  a great  many 

41 


42 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


people  seem  to  expect  of  a hero.  His  associates  never 
dreamed  that  this  silent  young  man,  who  did  a good 
deal  of  thinking  and  not  so  much  talking,  was  to  be  a 
leading  figure  in  the  war  for  independence  in  South 
America. 

When,  in  1812,  San  Martin  arrived  in  Buenos  Aires 
to  help  his  country  fight  for  liberty,  the  sparks  of 
revolution  had  almost  been  snuffed  out  in  all  the 
colonies  except  Argentina.  Here  the  creoles  had 
declared  their  independence,  deposed  the  Spanish  gov- 
ernor and  elected  their  own  officials.  The  first  thing 
San  Martin  did  was  to  train  a model  regiment  of 
cavalry  to  serve  as  the  backbone  for  an  army,  and  he 
showed  such  splendid  powers  of  leadership  that  in 
1813  he  was  given  command  of  the  patriot  forces. 
Peru,  of  all  the  colonies,  was  the  most  thoroughly 
Spanish,  and  it  was  so  hemmed  in  by  mountains  and 
deserts,  by  fierce  Indian  tribes  and  by  Spanish  strong- 
holds that  no  attack  on  its  frontier  could  ever  be 
successful.  San  Martin  had  to  plan  a way  to  carry 
the  cause  of  independence  from  one  small  patriotic 
center,  Buenos  Aires,  right  into  this  heart  of  Spanish 
supremacy  in  America.  His  solution  of  the  problem 
he  kept  as  secret  as  possible  so  that  the  Spaniards 
would  be  taken  by  surprise,  and  even  his  own  staff 
could  only  guess  at  what  might  happen  next. 

First  he  asked  to  be  appointed  governor  of  Cuyo, 
an  Argentine  province  lying  at  the  foot  of  the  Andes, 
and  in  Mendoza,  its  capital,  he  began  to  organize  his 
campaign.  The  people  of  this  province,  many  of  them 


43 


JOSE  DE  SAN  MARTIN 

exiled  Chilean  patriots,  thoroughly  hated  the  Spaniards 
and,  as  he  had  wisely  foreseen,  made  excellent  helpers. 
San  Martin,  with  his  persuasive  personality,  could 
always  make  others  feel  as  he  did.  Wherever  he  went 
patriots  sprang  into  existence  as  if  by  magic,  and  now 
the  entire  community  set  to  work  to  help  him  prepare 
his  army.  Even  tiny  children  drilled  and  carried  flags ; 
and  the  ladies  gave  their  jewels  to  pay  for  arms  and 
provisions,  worked  on  uniforms  for  the  soldiers,  and 
made  a great  battle  flag  bearing  a glowing  sun — the 
ancient  symbol  of  the  Incas. 

To  only  one  friend  did  he  reveal  the  magnificent  plan 
he  was  working  out  in  the  shadow  of  the  mountains : 
“A  small,  well-disciplined  army  in  Mendoza  to  cross 
to  Chile,  finish  off  the  Goths  (Spaniards)  there,  and 
aid  a government  of  trusty  friends  to  put  an  end  to 
the  anarchy  which  reigns.  Allying  our  forces  we 
shall  then  go  by  sea  to  Lima.  This  is  our  course  and 
no  other.”  But  between  San  Martin  and  Chile 
stretched  the  enormous  snow-crowned  Sierras  of  the 
Andes ! No  one  had  ever  dreamed  that  an  army  with 
guns,  baggage  and  horses  could  cross  those  treacher- 
ous passes,  some  of  them  12,000  feet  above  the  sea, 
and  often  too  narrow  to  allow  more  than  one  mounted 
man  to  pass  at  a time.  No  wonder  San  Martin  once 
remarked:  “What  spoils  my  sleep  is  not  the  strength 
of  the  enemy,  but  how  to  pass  those  immense  moun- 
tains.” 

It  took  just  three  years  for  San  Martin,  using  all 
the  resources  of  his  province,  to  prepare  for  his  task. 


44 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


This  meant  drilling  his  troops,  gathering  provisions, 
supervising  the  manufacture  of  arms  and  powder;  and 
planning  ahead  each  move  of  the  army.  He  gave 
personal  attention  to  every  detail  of  his  plan,  from 
providing  portable  bridges  for  use  in  the  mountains, 
and  sledges  to  carry  cannon  over  the  snow,  down  to 
hiring  the  last  cook  for  the  commissariat  and  ordering 
shoes  for  every  mule  in  the  transport. 

His  chief  diversion  during  this  time  was  campaign- 
ing with  chessmen  in  front  of  his  own  hearth  fire  and 
many  an  evening  he  spent  in  winning  all  the  games 
from  his  friends.  He  took  a fatherly  interest  in  the 
people,  and  his  quiet  kindliness  and  sympathy  were  in 
marked  contrast  to  the  tyranny  and  injustice  of 
Spanish  officials.  One  day  a farmer  was  sentenced 
for  bitterly  attacking  the  patriot  cause.  There  was 
no  room  in  San  Martin’s  big  nature  for  resent- 
ment. With  a sparkle  of  fun  in  his  eye  he  annulled 
the  sentence  on  condition  that  the  man  supply  the 
troops  with  ten  dozen  fat  pumpkins.  Another  day  a 
penitent  officer  came  to  him  to  confess  that  he  had 
lost  at  cards  a sum  of  money  which  belonged  to  his 
regiment.  San  Martin  quietly  turned  to  a little  cabinet 
in  the  corner  and  took  from  it  a number  of  gold  coins. 
These  he  gave  to  the  miserable  officer,  saying  sternly : 
“Pay  this  money  into  the  regimental  chest,  and  keep 
the  secret;  for  if  General  San  Martin  ever  hears  that 
you  told  of  it,  he  will  have  you  shot  upon  the  spot.” 

There  were  many  periods  of  great  discouragement 
during  these  years  of  preparation,  when  the  Royalists 


45 


JOSfi  DE  SAN  MARTIN 

seemed  everywhere  victorious,  but  San  Martin  had 
only  one  way  of  meeting  bad  news,  to  go  calmly  and 
confidently  ahead  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  When 
word  came  of  a great  defeat  of  the  patriots  in  the 
north,  San  Martin  invited  all  his  officers  to  a banquet, 
and  after  the  dessert  was  served  he  rose  to  propose  a 
toast : “To  the  first  shot  fired  beyond  the  Andes  against 
the  oppressors  of  Chile !”  The  room  rang  with  cheers, 
and  from  that  moment  there  was  never  a doubt  in  the 
hearts  of  his  men.  They  had  caught  that  contagious 
enthusiasm  from  their  general  which  was  to  lead  the 
army  to  victory. 

In  January,  1817,  all  was  ready.  A pen-and-ink 
sketch  of  the  route  to  be  followed  and  written  instruc- 
tions had  been  handed  to  each  major  officer  by  San 
Martin  himself.  From  January  14  to  23  the  troops, 
in  six  divisions,  started  off  from  different  points  in  the 
province  to  cross  the  Andes  at  intervals  along  the 
1,300  miles  of  unbroken  mountain  ranges.  The  time 
it  would  take  each  to  cross  had  been  so  accurately 
reckoned  that  on  the  6th,  7th,  and  8th  of  February, 
the  entire  army  poured  forth  from  the  six  passes  upon 
the  Chilean  plateau,  exactly  as  planned,  to  find  the 
Spaniards  quite  distracted  and  only  half  way  prepared 
for  defense.  The  two  main  divisions  of  the  army  filed 
out  from  the  mountains  simultaneously  and,  uniting 
on  the  plain  of  Chacabuco,  defeated  the  Spanish  forces 
on  February  12,  and  marched  into  Santiago,  then  the 
capital,  with  flags  flying.  To  this  day  in  the  great 
military  schools  of  the  world  San  Martin’s  march  from 


46  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


Cuyo  into  Chile  is  used  as  a model  of  how  a campaign 
should  be  conducted. 

San  Martin  refused  the  honors  which  people  now 
wanted  to  heap  upon  him,  even  the  commission  of 
brigadier-general,  the  highest  military  honor  the  Ar- 
gentine government  could  bestow.  The  only  reward  he 
seems  to  have  accepted  was  a life  pension  for  his 
daughter,  Marie  Mercedes,  which  he  used  for  her 
education.  With  10,000  ounces  of  gold  given  him  by 
the  Chileans  for  his  personal  use  he  built  a public 
library  in  Santiago.  And  when  they  unanimously 
named  him  as  their  governor  he  flatly  refused  the  posi- 
tion. Neither  then  nor  later  did  he  wflsh  any  political 
office  which  would  not  directly  help  along  the  cause  of 
independence.  Personal  conquest,  glory  and  profit  had 
no  part  in  his  big  plan. 

The  Spanish  troops  were  expert  soldiers  and  greatly 
outnumbered  the  invaders  of  Argentine.  After  send- 
ing for  reenforcements,  on  March  19,  1818,  they 
defeated  the  patriot  forces  at  Talca,  just  outside  San- 
tiago. It  was  reported  that  San  Martin  had  been 
killed  and  his  army  scattered  to  the  four  winds.  The 
city  rang  with  Royalist  celebrations.  But  even  as  the 
shouts  of  “ Viva  el  rey!”  sounded  through  the  streets, 
San  Martin  himself  rode  calmly  into  town,  drew  rein 
before  his  own  house,  and  as  he  dismounted,  grimly 
announced  to  the  excited  people  that  he  expected  to 
win  the  next  battle  and  very  soon,  too. 

With  the  help  of  friends  in  Santiago  who  showered 
him  with  money  for  supplies,  he  re-equipped  his  army 


47 


JOS£  DE  SAN  MARTIN 

and  marched  out  to  the  plain  of  Maipo  to  meet  the 
enemy.  As  he  watched  their  lines  forming  for  battle, 
he  exclaimed : “I  take  the  sun  for  witness  that  the  day 
is  ours!”  At  that  moment,  it  is  said,  the  sun  in  a 
cloudless  sky  rose  over  the  crests  of  the  Andes  and 
shone  full  in  his  face.  Before  sunset  the  Spanish 
army  was  put  to  rout,  and  the  Patriots,  within  seven- 
teen days  of  their  defeat,  had  established  forever  the 
independence  of  Chile. 

Before  the  army  could  hope  to  find  a foothold  in 
Peru,  a patriot  fleet  must  sail  up  the  coast  to  clear 
the  way.  Lord  Cochrane,  an  experienced  English 
admiral,  took  command  of  the  navy  in  1818.  His 
ships  swooped  down  on  several  towns  along  the  coast 
of  Peru  and  captured  them,  and  his  energy  and  dar- 
ing struck  terror  to  the  Spanish  heart.  His  fiercest 
onslaughts  were  directed  against  Callao,  a seaport,  six 
miles  from  Lima,  capital  of  Peru  and  headquarters  for 
the  royalist  army.  By  the  time  then  that  San  Martin’s 
land  forces  were  ready  to  set  out,  they  had  the  sea  to 
themselves,  and  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  the 
Spanish  fleet  dared  not  poke  its  nose  beyond  Callao 
harbor.  On  August  20,  1820,  the  United  Liberating 
Army  boarded  transports  at  Valparaiso  and,  under  the 
guidance  of  Cochrane,  sailed  for  Pisco,  a port  150 
miles  south  of  Lima.  Here  San  Martin  divided  his 
army.  A force  of  1,200  men  were  detailed  to  march 
northward  in  a great  semi-circle  around  Lima,  and  to 
spread  the  seed  of  rebellion  through  the  whole  country- 
side. On  the  way  these  soldiers  defeated  a Royalist 


48  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


detachment  sent  against  them.  This  success  boomed 
the  patriot  cause,  which  already  had  friends  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  it  became  so  popular  that  one  entire 
regiment  deserted  the  Spanish  camp  and  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  fight  with  the  newcomers.  With  the  main 
part  of  his  army  San  Martin  made  the  other  half  circle 
around  Lima  by  sea.  Both  sections  were  to  meet  at 
Huacho,  some  70  miles  north  of  the  capital.  It  was  a 
splendid  pageant  which  sailed  in  regular  order  past 
the  port  of  Callao:  first  the  ships  of  war  flying  the 
scarlet  and  white  flags,  designed  by  San  Martin  for 
the  new  Republic  of  Peru;  then  the  transports,  their 
decks  crowded  with  eager  soldiers.  It  seemed  as  if 
every  one  in  town  had  come  out  to  stand  on  the  walls 
and  watch  the  squadron  go  by. 

San  Martin  had  no  wish  to  win  battles.  He  issued 
this  proclamation  to  his  men : “Remember  that  you 
are  come,  not  to  conquer  but  to  liberate  a people;  the 
Peruvians  are  our  brothers.”  Now  that  he  had  shown 
the  Spaniards  what  they  might  expect  of  his  army  and 
fleet,  he  planned  to  stay  quietly  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Lima,  and  by  stimulating  the  Peruvians  with  a desire 
for  liberty,  lead  them  to  assert  their  own  rights.  He 
formed  secret  societies  which  carried  the  new  ideas 
into  every  nook  of  the  capital,  and  through  his  agents 
and  publications  acquired  enough  influence  to  cut  off 
the  supply  of  provisions  from  the  city. 

Meanwhile  Lord  Cochrane  had  put  the  finishing 
touch  to  his  naval  victory  by  capturing  the  Esmeralda, 
the  prize  ship  of  the  Spanish  fleet.  His  men  in  four- 


49 


JOSE  DE  SAN  MARTIN 

teen  rowboats  stole  into  Callao  harbor  by  night,  crept 
between  the  twenty-six  gunboats  which  protected  the 
big  ship,  boarded  her  before  any  one  knew  what  was 
happening,  and  carried  her  off  right  from  under  the 
300  guns  of  Callao  Castle. 

The  situation  in  Lima,  cut  off  from  supplies  by  land 
and  sea,  where  it  was  treason  even  to  mention  the 
subject  of  independence,  grew  worse  every  day.  A 
merchant,  just  arrived  from  independent  Chile,  com- 
pared its  capital  with  Lima.  “We  left  Valparaiso 
harbor  filled  with  shipping;  its  custom-house  wharfs 
piled  high  with  goods ; the  road  between  port  and  cap- 
ital was  always  crowded  with  convoys  of  mules,  loaded 
with  every  kind  of  foreign  manufacture,  while  numer- 
ous ships  were  busy  taking  in  cargoes.  In  the  harbor 
of  Callao  the  shipping  was  crowded  into  a corner 
and  surrounded  by  gunboats;  the  custom  house  stood 
empty  and  its  door  locked;  no  bales  of  goods  rose  in 
a pyramid  on  the  quay ; no  loaded  mules  plodded  over 
the  road  to  Lima.”  Indeed,  this  visitor  concluded, 
every  one  in  the  city  was  miserable  except  the  donkeys, 
who  presumably  enjoyed  having  nothing  to  do. 

During  the  first  six  months  of  1821  a truce  was 
declared  at  the  suggestion  of  the  viceroy,  who  thought 
that  if  the  situation  were  explained  to  the  government 
in  Spain  some  compromise  might  be  possible.  There 
was  no  such  word  as  “compromise”  in  San  Martin’s 
vocabulary,  but  he  consented  to  the  truce  because  he 
knew  it  meant  just  so  much  more  time  for  his  cause 
to  win  adherents. 


5o 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


During  this  truce  San  Martin  spent  much  of  his  time 
on  board  his  own  little  yacht  which  lay  at  anchor  in 
Callao  harbor,  and  there  he  received  visitors.  An  Eng- 
lish sea  captain  named  Basil  Hall  came  to  talk  with 
him  a number  of  times,  and  in  his  Journal — as  good 
reading  as  any  story  book — the  captain  tells  his  impres- 
sion of  the  great  general.  “There  was  little  at  first 
sight  to  engage  the  attention;  but  when  he  rose  and 
began  to  speak,  his  superiority  was  apparent.  He 
received  us  in  very  homely  style,  on  the  deck  of  his 
vessel,  dressed  in  a big  surtout  coat  and  a large  fur 
cap,  and  seated  at  a table  made  of  a few  loose  planks 
laid  along  the  top  of  some  empty  casks.  He  is  a tall, 
erect,  handsome  man  with  thick  black  hair  and 
immense,  bushy  dark  whiskers  extending  from  ear  to 
ear  under  his  chin;  his  eye  is  jet  black;  his  whole 
appearance  being  highly  military.  He  is  unaffect- 
edly simple  in  his  manners;  exceedingly  cordial  and 
engaging,  and  possessed  evidently  of  great  kindliness 
of  disposition;  in  short,  I have  never  seen  any  person, 
the  enchantment  of  whose  address  was  more  irresist- 
ible.” 

Sitting  there  at  his  little  table  the  general  explained 
himself  to  his  friends : “People  ask  why  I don’t  march 
to  Lima  at  once ; so  I might,  and  instantly  would,  were 
it  suitable  to  my  view,  but  it  is  not.  I do  not  want 
military  renown,  I have  no  ambition  to  be  conqueror 
of  Peru,  I want  solely  to  liberate  the  country  from 
oppression.  I wish  to  have  all  thinking  men  with  me, 
and  do  not  choose  to  advance  a step  beyond  the  march 


JOS£  DE  SAN  MARTIN  51 

of  public  opinion.  I have  been  gaining,  day  by  day, 
fresh  allies  in  the  hearts  of  the  people.” 

For  a long  time  Spain  had  been  too  busy  with  her 
own  revolution  against  monarchy  to  help  her  colonies. 
Neither  ships  nor  advice  were  forthcoming,  and  on 
July  6,  1821,  the  viceroy  hurriedly  left  Lima  with  his 
troops,  and  took  to  the  mountains.  The  patriotic 
army,  in  a semicircle,  settled  down  on  the  heights  to 
the  north  of  the  city,  in  plain  sight  of  the  residents, 
but  made  no  move  to  enter.  A few  prominent  citizens 
immediately  sent  an  invitation  to  San  Martin  to  come 
and  protect  them  from  threatened  uprisings  of  the 
slave  and  Indian  population.  The  general  replied  most 
politely  that  he  would  not  enter  the  city  as  a conqueror ; 
he  would  come  only  when  the  people  themselves 
invited  him  because  they  wished  to  declare  their  inde- 
pendence. But  to  protect  them,  he  ordered  his  troops 
to  obey  any  directions  given  them  by  the  officials  of 
the  city. 

When  the  people  heard  this  splendid  offer  they  could 
not  believe  it  had  been  made  in  good  faith.  The  great 
general  must  be  mocking  them!  They  shook  their 
heads  suspiciously  and  solemnly  gathered  to  discuss 
the  matter.  Tongues  wagged  excitedly  all  night  long 
till  at  last  a bright  idea  occurred  to  “a  strange  little 
man  folded  up  in  an  old  dingy  Spanish  cloak,  with 
a broad-brimmed  yellow  hat,  hooked  loosely  on  one 
corner  of  his  small  square  head,  and  shadowing  a 
face  plastered  all  over  with  snuff  which,  in  the  vehe- 
mence of  his  agitation,  he  flung  at  his  nose  in  hand- 


52 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


fuls.”  This  little  person  proposed  that  they  order  a 
certain  troop  of  San  Martin’s  cavalry  to  move  one 
league  farther  away  just  to  see  if  it  would.  The 
messenger  who  sallied  out  to  carry  this  order  returned 
to  say  that  the  troop  had  packed  up  its  baggage  and 
moved  exactly  as  ordered.  This  put  the  Peruvians  in 
high  good  humor  and  San  Martin  became  more  popular 
than  ever.  A formal  deputation  invited  him  with 
great  cordiality  to  enter  the  city,  and  on  July  9 the 
first  section  of  the  United  Liberating  Army  marched 
into  the  capital  of  Peru  while  cheers  of  welcome  rang 
through  the  streets. 

San  Martin  himself  rode  into  the  city  the  next  eve- 
ning in  his  usual  simple,  informal  manner,  accompanied 
by  only  one  aide.  The  story  is  told  that  he  intended 
to  stop  on  the  way  and  rest  for  the  night  at  a cottage 
outside  the  city.  Unluckily  this  retreat  was  discovered 
by  two  admiring  friars  who  made  San  Martin  miser- 
able with  their  extravagant  praises.  When  they 
began  to  compare  him  with  Caesar  he  could  bear  it  no 
longer. 

“Good  heavens!  What  are  we  to  do?  This  will 
never  answer,”  he  told  his  aide. 

“Oh,  sir ! Here  come  two  more  of  the  same  stamp,” 
warned  the  aide  from  the  window. 

“Indeed!”  replied  the  general.  “Then  saddle  the 
horses  again  and  let  us  be  off.” 

More  praises  and  compliments  were  awaiting  him 
in  Lima,  and  the  people  crowded  to  greet  him.  One 
cold,  sedate  young  priest  suddenly  forgot  his  dignity 


53 


JOSE  DE  SAN  MARTIN 

as  he  shook  hands  with  the  great  general  and  burst 
forth  with  a loud  shout  of  “Viva!  Nuestra  General !” 
“No,  no,”  said  San  Martin,  “do  not  say  so;  but  join 
with  me  in  calling : ‘Viva  la  Independencia  del  Peru!’  ” 
On  July  15  independence  was  declared,  and  the 
scarlet  and  white- flag  waved  over  a new  republic.  A 
great  question  now  confronted  the  Peruvians : “Who 
shall  govern  us?”  San  Martin’s  policy  had  always 
been  that  as  soon  as  he  had  liberated  the  people  his 
task  was  over  and  they  must  work  out  their  own  plans 
for  government,  as  the  Chileans  had  done.  But  the 
creoles  in  Lima  knew  as  little  about  organizing  a gov- 
ernment as  they  had  known  how  to  break  away  from 
Spanish  rule.  San  Martin  believed  this  backwardness 
was  due  to  their  geographical  situation  which  had 
cut  them  off  from  outside  influences,  and  that  they 
needed  his  help  before  they  could  be  able  to  help  them- 
selves. He  issued  a decree  which  temporarily  gave 
himself  the  title  of  “Protector  of  Peru.”  In  a proc- 
lamation to  the  people  he  explained  his  position : 
“Since  there  is  still  in  Peru  a foreign  enemy  to  combat, 
it  is  a measure  of  necessity  that  the  political  and  mili- 
tary authority  should  continue  united  in  my  person. 
The  religious  scrupulousness  with  which  I have  kept 
my  word  in  the  course  of  my  public  life  gives  me  a 
right  to  be  believed ; and  I again  pledge  it  to  the  people 
of  Peru,  by  solemnly  promising  that  the  very  instant 
their  territory  is  free,  I shall  resign  the  command,  in 
order  to  make  room  for  the  government  which  they 
may  be  pleased  to  elect.” 


54 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


By  his  first  act  in  office,  San  Martin  showed  that  his 
definition  of  independence  was  big  enough  to  include 
not  part  but  all  the  people.  He  wanted  liberty  for  the 
slaves  in  Peru  as  well  as  for  their  masters,  so  he 
declared  free  every  person  born  after  Independence 
Day  and  every  slave  who  voluntarily  enlisted  in  his 
army.  An  English  teacher  living  in  Lima  during  this 
prosperous  year  of  1822  wrote:  “I  never  mentioned 
a wish  to  San  Martin  that  was  not  granted  in  the  most 
obliging  manner.  After  his  going  away,  I scarcely 
mentioned  anything  I wished  done,  that  was  not 
refused.” 

The  harbor  now  opened  to  all  the  world.  Ships 
with  rich  cargoes  sailed  in  and  out ; the  donkeys  again 
had  great  loads  to  carry  from  the  wharfs;  and  the 
shops  were  filled  with  inexpensive  articles  of  foreign 
manufacture  which  before  this  had  been  rare  luxuries. 
But  in  spite  of  their  sudden  prosperity  the  Peruvians 
hampered  San  Martin  in  his  two-fold  task  of  putting 
affairs  at  home  in  good  order  and  planning  for  further 
military  campaigns.  As  he  well  knew,  the  national 
spirit  which  he  had  aroused  might  turn  against  him 
at  any  moment,  and  he  had  continually  to  be  on  his 
guard  against  uprisings.  The  creoles  grew  jealous 
and  factious  at  the  slightest  pretext.  San  Martin  was 
after  all  an  outsider  and  came  from  a rival  republic. 
Nearly  two  thirds  of  his  original  army,  moreover, 
unaccustomed  to  living  so  near  the  equator,  had  been 
ill  of  fever  and  were  in  no  condition  to  fight. 

San  Martin  now  looked  for  help  from  quite  another 


55 


JOSfi  DE  SAN  MARTIN 

quarter.  At  this  time  a patriot  general  named  Bolivar 
had  reached  the  northern  frontier  of  Peru  with  his 
army.  He  was  fighting  for  the  cause  of  independence 
in  the  North  as  San  Martin  had  fought  in  the  South. 
Here  in  Peru,  these  two  great  Liberators  who  between 
them  had  aroused  all  Spanish  America  met  for  the 
first  time.  San  Martin,  without  a thought  of  pos- 
sible rivalry,  rejoiced  in  the  strength  and  support  so 
near  at  hand  and  planned  an  alliance  which  should 
speedily  bring  final  victory.  With  great  enthusiasm 
he  arranged  for  an  interview  at  Guayaquil,  a province 
just  over  the  borderline  of  Peru.  Bolivar,  however, 
found  the  idea  of  sharing  his  military  triumphs  with 
another  not  at  all  to  his  liking.  He  “wanted  the  glory 
of  driving  out  the  last  Spaniard,”  and  he  received 
the  proposal  of  an  alliance  coldly,  even  though  San 
Martin  offered  to  take  a subordinate  position.  At  the 
end  of  the  interview  Bolivar  seemed  agitated  and  rest- 
less, while  San  Martin  appeared  as  calm,  grave  and 
unruffled  as  always.  That  night  a banquet  was  given 
in  honor  of  the  visitor,  at  which  both  generals  pro- 
posed toasts.  Bolivar’s  came  first : “To  the  two  great- 
est men  of  South  America — General  San  Martin  and 
myself.”  Then  San  Martin,  there  at  the  table  of  the 
man  who  had  failed  him  just  as  the  completion  of  his 
career  was  in  sight,  again  showed  the  quality  of  his 
patriotism.  “To  the  speedy  conclusion  of  the  war,”  he 
cried;  “to  the  organization  of  the  different  republics  of 
the  continent;  and  to  the  health  of  Bolivar,  the 
Liberator  of  Colombia!” 


56  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


The  only  comment  San  Martin  seems  to  have  made 
on  his  interview  with  Bolivar  was  contained  in  a mes- 
sage to  his  friend  O’Higgins:  “The  Liberator  is  not 
the  man  we  took  him  to  be.”  Without  a word  to  any 
one  of  all  that  had  happened,  he  decided  simply  to  give 
up  his  career  and  leave  Peru.  If  he  remained  it  would 
mean  civil  war  between  himself  and  Bolivar  who  would 
always  be  intriguing  against  him.  The  cause  of  inde- 
pendence must  not  be  threatened  by  quarrels  between 
two  rivals.  No  matter  what  people  said  of  him  he 
knew  he  must  never  tell  the  real  reason  for  his  going, 
because  his  own  men  would  turn  against  Bolivar  when 
they  ought  to  help  him.  His  friends  must  now  be 
Bolivar’s  friends.  His  own  career,  even  his  good  name, 
were  of  small  importance  compared  with  the  fortunes 
of  the  republic.  From  Lima  he  wrote  his  decision  to 
Bolivar:  “I  have  convened  the  first  congress  of  Peru; 
the  day  after  its  installation  I shall  leave  for  Chile, 
convinced  that  my  presence  is  the  only  obstacle  which 
keeps  you  from  coming  to  Peru  with  your  army.” 
For  the  next  few  weeks  he  worked  hard  to  leave 
things  in  order.  First  he  put  his  army  in  the  best  pos- 
sible condition  for  service,  and  drew  up  a careful  plan 
of  the  campaign  in  which  he  would  have  no  other  share. 
Then,  on  September  20,  the  representatives  from  the 
liberated  provinces  of  Peru  met,  and  before  this  new 
congress  he  took  off  his  scarlet  and  white  sash,  the 
emblem  of  authority,  and  resigned  his  office.  “I  have 
witnessed  the  declaration  of  independence  of  Chile  and 
Peru,”  he  said  in  his  farewell  address;  “I  hold  in  my 


57 


JOSfi  DE  SAN  MARTIN 

hand  the  standard  which  Pizarro  brought  over  to  en- 
slave the  empire  of  the  Incas.  My  promises  to  the 
countries  in  which  I made  war  are  fulfilled;  I gave 
them  independence  and  leave  them  the  choice  of  their 
government.” 

San  Martin  had  only  lame  excuses  to  give  for  his 
sudden  departure,  such  as : “My  health  is  broken,  this 
climate  is  killing  me;”  and  on  retiring  from  office,  “My 
presence  in  Peru  now  after  the  powers  I have  wielded 
would  be  inconsistent  with  the  dignity  of  Congress 
and  with  my  own.”  He  was  accused  of  cowardice, 
and  of  deserting  the  republic  at  the  time  of  its  greatest 
need.  No  one  thought  of  blaming  Bolivar.  Not  until 
years  later  when  San  Martin’s  letters  were  published, 
and  the  true  reason  for  his  going  became  known,  were 
the  shadows  cleared  from  his  name. 

On  the  night  of  the  20th  he  rode  away  from  Lima 
as  quietly  as  he  had  first  entered  it,  and  boarding  his 
yacht  at  Callao  sailed  for  Chile.  But  there  was  no 
longer  a place  for  him  in  South  America,  even  in  his 
own  province  of  Buenos  Aires,  for  he  despised  the 
small  civil  wars  in  which  the  Argentines  were  always 
entangled.  So,  besides  career  and  honors  and  reputa- 
tion, he  gave  up  home  and  country. 

In  a little  house  on  the  banks  of  the  Seine  near  Paris, 
San  Martin  spent  many  quiet  years  with  his  daughter, 
reading  till  his  eyes  grew  too  dim,  caring  for  his 
garden,  absorbed  in  his  trees  and  flowers.  He  died  on 
August  9,  1850.  In  his  will  he  left  his  sword — there 
was  very  little  else  to  leave — to  the  Argentine  Dictator. 


58  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


It  was  an  expression  of  the  deep  interest  and  eager 
hopes  with  which  he  had  followed  the  fortunes  of  his 
country  to  the  very  end  of  his  life.  His  last  wish  came 
true  and  is  now  written  upon  his  tomb  in  the  cathe- 
dral of  the  Argentine  capital : “I  desire  that  my  heart 
may  rest  in  Buenos  Aires.”  Statues  have  been 
erected  to  him  in  the  three  States  to  which  he  gave  his 
services,  and  to-day  he  is  honored  as  the  greatest  of  all 
their  men. 

San  Martin  was  a good  winner.  When  he  won  a 
victory  he  used  it  for  the  glory  of  his  people  and  the 
success  of  his  cause,  not  for  his  own  fame.  He  was  a 
good  loser — there  never  lived  a better.  Just  before  he 
left  Peru  for  the  last  time  he  sent  a message  and  a 
present  to  Bolivar.  The  message  read : “Receive,  Gen- 
eral, this  remembrance  from  the  first  of  your  admirers, 
with  the  expression  of  my  sincere  desire  that  you  may 
have  the  glory  of  finishing  the  war  for  the  indepen- 
dence of  South  America.”  The  present  was  a war 
horse,  the  thoroughbred  which  San  Martin  himself 
might  have  ridden  at  the  head  of  the  victorious  patriot 


armies. 


BOLIVAR 


SIMON  BOLIVAR 


BOLIVAR 


One  day  on  the  royal  tennis  courts  at  Madrid  an 
alert,  athletic  lad,  brimming  over  with  nervous  energy, 
won  all  the  sets  from  his  host,  the  young  heir  to  the 
throne  of  Spain.  It  was  the  first  battle  between  two 
men  whose  armies  a few  years  later  fought  each  other 
in  a long  and  bitter  war;  for  the  lad,  Simon  Bolivar, 
led  the  revolution  for  independence  in  the  northern 
colonies  of  Spanish  America,  and  the  prince  after- 
ward became  King  Ferdinand  VII  whose  countrymen 
Bolivar  whipped  from  coast  to  coast.  While  San 
Martin’s  armies  were  carrying  liberty  from  Buenos 
Aires  through  Chile  to  Peru,  a similar  revolt  against 
the  tyranny  of  governors  sent  over  from  Spain  broke 
out  in  Venezuela,  spread  through  New  Granada,  or 
Colombia  as  it  was  called  later,  through  Quito,  after- 
ward named  Ecuador,  and  finally  concentrated  in  Peru. 

“The  well-informed  party  in  Venezuela,”  one  writer 
explains,  “the  rich,  the  illustrious,  sought  independence 
and  sacrificed  themselves  for  liberty;  but  the  people, 
no!”  The  prominent,  ambitious  Creoles  had  most 
to  gain  by  a change  in  government.  Their  heads 
were  full  of  republican  ideas  imported  from  the 
mother  country,  and  in  Caracas,  capital  of  Venezuela, 
they  held  secret  meetings  and  energetically  fanned  the 

61 


62 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


anti-Spanish  feeling  which  led  to  civil  war.  To  this 
party  of  radicals  belonged  Simon  Bolivar,  member  of 
an  aristocratic  Caracas  family.  So  ardent  and  im- 
petuous a patriot  was  he  that  long  before  the  time 
was  ripe  for  revolt  he  had  leaped  to  his  feet  during 
a banquet  and  proposed  a toast  to  the  “independence 
of  America,”  right  in  the  presence  of  the  Spanish 
governor  himself. 

Bolivar  had  always  been  accustomed  to  doing  and 
having  everything  he  wanted;  never  had  there  been  a 
restraining  influence  to  check  his  tempestuous,  self- 
willed  nature;  for  his  parents  died  when  he  was  still 
a small  child,  leaving  him  to  run  wild  on  the  big 
country  estate  where  he  lived ; and  his  little  seventeen- 
year-old  Spanish  wife  lived  only  a few  months  after 
he  had  brought  her  home.  He  was  used  to  an  active, 
outdoor  life  and  spent  more  time  in  hunting  and  rid- 
ing, swimming  and  sailing,  than  in  studying  with  his 
tutor.  This  tutor,  Simon  Rodriguez,  however,  was 
the  strongest  influence  in  Bolivar’s  life,  for  he  filled 
the  boy’s  mind  with  his  own  enthusiastic  belief  in  a 
republican  form  of  government.  He  dreamed  of  a day 
when  the  Creoles  should  be  free  from  their  enforced 
dependence  upon  arbitrary,  avaricious  Spanish  govern- 
ors, and  humiliating  subjection  to  hundreds  of  absurd 
little  laws  made  away  off  in  Spain  by  men  who 
understood  nothing  of  the  problems  of  the  South 
American  people.  Bolivar  was  brought  up  on  these 
teachings  and  he  never  forgot  them.  When,  like  most 
rich  young  Creoles,  he  was  sent  to  travel  in  Europe, 


BOLIVAR 


63 


he  had  a chance  to  see  for  himself  the  workings  of 
the  French  Republic,  and  he  admired  it  so  much  that 
he  made  a vow  when  only  twenty-two  years  old  to  be 
the  liberator  of  his  country. 

Venezuela  was  the  first  colony  in  Spanish  America 
to  declare  her  independence.  Until  1810  no  open 
action  was  taken.  Then,  when  the  news  came  that 
the  French  armies  were  occupying  Spain  and  that 
Ferdinand  had  been  deposed  in  favor  of  Napoleon’s 
brother,  the  radical  party  in  Caracas  immediately  de- 
manded the  resignation  of  Spanish  officials,  declared 
“the  right  of  the  provinces  of  America  to  rule  them- 
selves,” and  appointed  its  own  governing  committee, 
or  junta,  which  should  control  the  affairs  of  the 
“United  Provinces  of  Venezuela.”  The  first  Con- 
gress was  convened  in  181 1,  and  on  July  5,  the  Spanish 
colors  were  torn  in  small  pieces,  and  the  flag  of  the 
new  republic,  stripes  of  yellow,  blue,  and  red,  formally 
adopted. 

Here  was  the  signal  for  civil  war.  The  rebellious 
colonies,  came  the  word  from  Spain,  must  be  sub- 
dued at  any  cost.  “I  do  not  know  to  what  class  of 
beasts  the  South  Americans  belong,”  remarked  one 
angry  Spaniard.  “If  the  Americans,”  said  another, 
“complain  of  having  been  tyrannized  over  for  three 
hundred  years,  they  shall  now  experience  a similar 
treatment  for  three  thousand.”  Of  these  same  South 
American  “beasts”  a great  Spanish  general  reported, 
a few  years  later:  “Twelve  pitched  battles,  in  which 
the  best  officers  and  troops  of  the  enemy  have  fallen, 


64  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


have  not  lowered  their  pride  or  lessened  the  vigor  of 
their  attacks.”  That  was  the  spirit  of  Simon  Bolivar. 
The  whole  war  for  independence  was  like  a great 
pendulum  swinging  back  and  forth.  On  every  other 
swing  things  looked  black  for  the  patriot  cause,  and 
then,  out  of  hopelessness  and  defeat,  Bolivar  would 
rise  as  undaunted  and  self-confident  as  ever,  mass  his 
troops  together,  and  hurl  them  madly  at  the  enemy 
over  and  over  again. 

When,  in  1812,  all  the  brave  hopes  of  the  struggling 
little  Republics  were  dashed  to  pieces  and  every  one 
else  had  completely  lost  heart,  Bolivar  saw  his  chance 
to  realize  the  two  supreme  desires  of  his  life.  One  was 
the  sincere  wish  to  win  independence  for  his  country; 
the  other  a selfish  ambition  to  keep  for  himself  the 
entire  glory  of  doing  it.  In  a few  months’  fime  he 
rose  from  the  inconspicuous  position  of  a volunteer 
officer,  who  has  been  ignominiously  defeated  at  his  first 
action,  to  be  a brilliant  military  ruler.  First  he  went 
to  Cartagena,  the  one  province  of  New  Granada  which 
had  declared  its  independence,  and  offered  his  services. 
With  the  few  men  given  him  he  fought  his  way  toward 
the  borderline  of  his  own  State.  On  the  way  he  heard 
that  just  across  the  Andes  in  Venezuela  a royalist 
army  was  preparing  to  march  upon  New  Granada.  He 
was  only  a minor  officer,  with  not  more  than  400  men, 
and  he  had  had  almost  no  military  experience.  With- 
out waiting  to  ask  permission,  without  plans  or  prep- 
arations, he  marched  across  the  mountains  and  rushed 
upon  the  unsuspecting  enemy.  So  energetic  was  the 


BOLIVAR 


65 


attack  that  the  royalists,  6,000  in  number,  were  per- 
fectly sure  a huge  army  confronted  them  and  they 
beat  a speedy  retreat.  Delighted  at  Bolivar’s  success 
the  Cartagena  junta  gave  him  more  troops,  but 
prudently  ordered  him  to  pause  before  going  any 
farther. 

Bolivar  refused  to  be  held  in  leash.  He  saw  a pos- 
sible rival  in  a Venezuelan  patriot  named  Santiago 
Marino,  who  had  won  a few  victories  on  the  east 
coast,  and  in  a frenzy  lest  Marino  get  ahead  of  him 
and  reach  Caracas  first  Bolivar  went  right  on  with  his 
whirlwind  campaign  across  the  State.  On  his  own 
responsibility  he  issued  a terrible  proclamation : “Our 
kindness  is  now  quenched,  and  as  our  oppressors  force 
us  into  a mortal  war,  they  shall  disappear  from  Amer- 
ica, and  our  land  shall  be  purged  of  the  monsters  who 
infest  it.  Our  hatred  shall  be  implacable,  and  the  war 
shall  be  to  the  death.”  He  began  to  date  his  letters: 
“Third  year  of  Independence  and  first  of  the  War  to 
the  Death.”  Years  later  he  greatly  regretted  the  spirit 
of  this  ferocious  declaration  and  urged  instead 
“humanity  and  compassion  for  your  most  bitter 
enemies.” 

On  August  6,  1813,  he  entered  his  native  city  as 
he  had  dreamed  of  doing,  hailed  on  all  sides  by  “Long 
live  our  Liberator!  Long  live  New  Granada!  Long 
live  the  Savior  of  Venezuela!”  He  was  flattered  and 
feted  to  his  heart’s  content.  “A  multitude  of  beauti- 
ful young  women  . . . bearing  crowns  of  laurel, 

pushed  their  way  through  the  crowd  to  take  hold  of 


66 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


the  bridle  of  his  horse.  Bolivar  dismounted  and  was 
almost  overpowered  by  the  crowns  cast  upon  him. 
The  people  wept  for  joy.”  He  was  now  “far  more 
powerful  than  any  sovereign  living  in  the  world,  in 
proportion  to  the  country  and  the  resources  of  the 
people.” 

But  instead  of  attending  strictly  to  the  business  of 
fighting,  Bolivar  wasted  time  in  enjoying  his  new 
honors  and  establishing  himself  as  Dictator.  Even 
while  he  was  having  the  inscription  “Bolivar,  Libera- 
tor of  Venezuela”  placed  over  the  entrances  of  all 
public  offices,  the  royalists  were  recovering  their  wits. 
Out  on  the  plains,  or  “llanos,”  lived  a wild,  uncivilized 
race  of  cattle  breeders  called  Llaneros,  who  were  mag- 
nificent riders  and  recklessly  brave  fighters.  Boves,  a 
fierce  and  brutal  Spanish  leader,  won  their  allegiance 
by  the  promise  of  large  booty,  and  formed  them  into 
an  army  of  invincible  cavalry,  teaching  them  “the 
secret  of  victory,  which  was  to  have  no  fear  of  death, 
to  go  straight  on  and  never  look  behind.”  Bolivar’s 
little  force  was  driven  from  pillar  to  post  by  the 
terrible  Boves  till  in  1814  once  more  the  patriots  had 
hardly  a foothold  anywhere  in  Venezuela.  Though 
the  Liberator  had  some  devoted  followers,  like  the 
man  who  had  written  him:  “General!  If  two  men 
are  sufficient  to  liberate  the  Fatherland  I am  ready  to 
accompany  you,”  yet  he  was  continually  opposed  by 
jealous  patriots  who  were  loath  to  obey  orders.  He 
never  minced  words  with  such  enemies:  “March  at 

once,”  he  repeated  his  command  to  one  of  them; 


BOLIVAR 


6 7 


“there  is  no  other  alternative  to  marching.  If  you  do 
not,  either  you  will  have  to  shoot  me,  or  I shall  in- 
fallibly shoot  you.”  These  rivals  now  took  advantage 
of  his  failures,  and  even  his  admirers  turned  against 
him.  Betrayed  on  all  sides  and  denounced  as  a traitor, 
he  was  fairly  driven  from  his  country.  But  in  this 
hour  of  complete  humiliation  he  stood  proudly  and 
confidently  before  the  people  and  made  a farewell 
address:  “I  swear  to  you  that  this  title  (Liberator) 
which  your  gratitude  bestowed  upon  me  when  I broke 
your  chains  shall  not  be  in  vain.  I swear  to  you  that 
Liberator  or  dead,  I shall  ever  merit  the  honor  you 
have  done  me;  no  human  power  can  turn  me  from 
my  course.” 

Then  Bolivar  returned  to  New  Granada,  where  he 
had  one  loyal  friend  who  still  believed  in  him,  Camilo 
Torres,  president  of  the  Republic.  “As  long  as  Bolivar 
lives,”  he  declared,  “Venezuela  is  not  lost.”  The 
revolutionary  junta  appointed  him  Captain-general  of 
the  army,  and  invented  for  him  another  of  the  im- 
pressive titles  he  loved  so  much : “Illustrious  Pacifi- 

cator.” On  this  occasion  Bolivar  made  a speech  in 
which  he  boasted  that  the  army  of  New  Granada 
“would  break  the  chains  of  all  the  oppressed  peoples 
of  South  America.” 

King  Ferdinand,  who  had  won  back  his  throne, 
now  sent  10,000  trained  soldiers  under  General  Morillo 
to  put  a stop  once  and  for  all  to  the  revolutionary 
antics  in  which  his  stubborn  colonies  were  indulging. 
While  this  army  was  landing  in  Venezuela,  in  1815, 


68 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


Bolivar  was  quarreling  bitterly  with  a rival  Republican 
leader,  Castillo,  governor  of  the  independent  province 
of  Cartagena,  who  refused  to  join  the  confederation 
of  New  Granada.  Instead  of  uniting  against  the  com- 
mon enemy,  the  two  wasted  their  time  in  petty  in- 
trigues, till  Bolivar,  in  a wild  rage,  laid  siege  to  Car- 
tagena, the  strongest  fortress  on  the  continent,  with 
only  one  small  mounted  gun.  Then  he  suddenly 
realized  the  absurdity  of  his  position  and,  as  Morillo’s 
army  swept  over  New  Granada,  he  gave  what  was  left 
of  his  army  to  Castillo  and  resigned.  Still  undaunted 
by  failure,  and  never  admitting  that  he  himself  could 
be  at  all  to  blame,  he  had  a parting  shot  to  fire  as 
usual : “Cartagena  prefers  her  own  destruction  to 

the  duty  of  obedience  to  the  Federal  Government.” 
Then,  with  his  mind  still  full  of  plans  for  renewing 
the  war,  he  took  refuge  on  the  island  of  Haiti. 

While  Bolivar  was  in  exile,  the  Llaneros  were  so 
attracted  by  the  bravery  and  fair  play  of  a patriotic 
guerilla  chieftain  named  Paez  and  so  angry  at  the 
brutal  tyranny  of  Boves  and  other  Spaniards  that 
they  changed  their  minds  and  came  over  to  the  patriot 
side.  Their  successes  on  the  plains  of  Venezuela  put 
new  energy  into  the  revolutionary  movement,  and 
Morillo  came  hurrying  back  from  New  Granada  in 
alarm.  At  this  crisis  Creole  officers  had  to  admit  that 
only  one  man  was  great  enough  to  head  the  revolu- 
tion, and  they  petitioned  their  Liberator  to  come  to  the 
rescue.  Bolivar  had  never  left  off  working  desperately 
to  restore  the  republic,  but  his  expeditions  from  Haiti 


BOLIVAR 


69 


were  failures.  Other  patriot  refugees  intrigued 
against  him  and  he  had  narrowly  escaped  assassina- 
tion. Now,  at  the  end  of  1816,  he  reappeared  among 
his  countrymen,  the  commander-in-chief  of  their  army, 
and  as  confident  and  enthusiastic  as  though  he  had 
never  been  scorned  and  jeered  at  and  defeated. 

The  Creole  army  resembled  an  armed  mob  rather 
than  a disciplined  body  of  soldiers.  One  of  Bolivar’s 
officers  wrote : “There  was  much  to  be  done  to  trans- 
form these  peasants  into  soldiers  and  give  them  a mar- 
tial aspect.  Nothing  could  be  less  military  than  their 
clothes : a hat  of  gray  wool  with  a broad  brim  and  a 
low  crown;  . . . and  an  immense  square  blanket 

of  coarse  wool,  with  a hole  in  the  middle  for  the 
head  to  pass  through,  hanging  from  the  shoulders  to 
the  knees,  giving  the  impression  of  an  armless  man.” 
Many  carried  no  arms,  except  pikeheads  fastened  upon 
short  sticks,  for  it  was  difficult  to  teach  them  “to 
handle  a musket,  or  to  fire  it  without  shutting  both 
eyes,  turning  the  head  to  the  rear,  and  so  causing 
much  greater  danger  to  themselves  and  their  fellows 
than  to  the  enemy!”  Bolivar  himself  cut  a strange 
figure  among  his  ill-assorted  soldiers.  He  loved  to  be 
conspicuous.  During  one  battle  he  wore  a jacket  and 
pantaloons  of  scarlet  decorated  with  gold  lace.  On 
another  occasion  he  “was  dressed  in  a green  spencer 
with  red  facings  and  three  rows  of  buttons;  on  his 
head  was  a dragoon’s  helmet,  which  had  been  sent 
him  as  a sample;  he  wore  Llanero  gaiters,  and  car- 
ried in  his  hand  a short  lance  with  a black  • pennon 


70 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


adorned  with  a skull  and  cross-bones,  under  which 
might  be  read  the  inscription,  ‘Liberty  or  Death.’  ” 
One  writer  says : “There  was  nothing  heroic  in  his 

appearance;  he  was  short  in  stature,  thin  and  narrow 
chested ; his  large  black  eyes  were  sunk  deep 

in  their  orbits,  and  sparkled  with  unsteady  light,  in- 
dicative of  his  character.  He  looked  like  one  pos- 
sessed of  a latent  fire,  a man  of  feverish  activity.” 

He  had  a tremendous  personal  influence  over  his 
men.  In  spite  of  brusque  manners  and  a terrifying 
temper  he  was  always  impulsively  generous.  One  day 
an  officer  complained  of  being  robbed  of  his  baggage. 
Bolivar  was  unable  to  recover  it,  but  at  once  gave 
him  half  of  his  own  clothes,  which  were  few  enough. 

During  the  next  two  years  Bolivar’s  position  was 
desperate;  yet  without  funds  or  arms  or  supplies  he 
plunged  fiercely  ahead.  Though  the  Republic  had 
hardly  a leg  to  stand  on,  Bolivar  issued  the  most 
optimistic  of  proclamations.  To  the  people  of  New 
Granada  he  announced : “The  day  of  America  has 
come.  No  human  power  can  stay  the  course  of 
nature  guided  by  Providence.  Before  the  sun  has 
again  run  his  annual  course  altars  to  liberty  will  arise 
throughout  your  land.” 

The  constant  turmoil  in  which  Bolivar  lived  and 
the  intensity  of  his  feelings  wore  upon  his  health. 
Sometimes  he  became  so  excited  that  he  hardly  knew 
what  he  did.  He  would  expose  himself  “in  the  most 
reckless  manner  wherever  the  fight  was  hottest,  seem- 
ing to  court  death  as  some  expiation  of  the  errors  he 


BOLIVAR 


7 1 


had  committed.”  During  one  battle,  when  everything 
seemed  lost  and  the  Spaniards  were  plowing  their 
deadly  way  among  his  little  handful  of  soldiers,  he 
leaped  from  his  horse  and  dashed  into  the  ranks,  shout- 
ing to  his  men  that  he  would  die  with  them.  He  had 
many  hairbreadth  escapes.  One  time  he  and  his  staff 
.were  attacked  as  they  slept  in  their  hammocks  in  a wood. 
All  night  Bolivar  wandered  about  on  foot  alone  till  he 
was  finally  picked  up  by  his  own  retreating  troops. 
Another  night  he  jumped  from  his  hammock  just  in 
time  to  spoil  the  plans  of  some  spies  who  had  been 
sent  to  murder  him,  and  seized  a mule  on  which  to 
escape.  The  mule  kicked  him  violently,  but  a negro 
soldier  came  to  the  rescue  with  a horse,  and  Bolivar 
dashed  away  hatless  and  coatless. 

By  1818  Bolivar  had  learned,  from  his  own  failures 
and  predicaments  and  from  the  example  of  San 
Martin,  that  if  he  wanted  results  he  needed  dis-< 
ciplined  troops.  He  hired  skilled  European  soldiers 
who  had  fought  in  the  Napoleonic  wars,  and  to  his 
own  ragged,  plucky  Creole  army  he  added  these 
trained,  sophisticated  warriors,  who  looked,  in  their 
brilliant  and  varied  uniforms,  “more  like  a theatrical 
troupe  than  a body  of  soldiers  going  on  active  service.” 

When  the  rainy  season  of  1819  set  in  and  it  looked 
as  though  further  campaigning  would  have  to  be  post- 
poned, the  patriots  held  only  the  valley  and  low  plains 
of  the  Orinoco  River  in  Venezuela.  Bolivar,  always 
straining  to  be  off  and  after  the  enemy,  now  evolved 
a stupendous  scheme  for  an  offensive  attack.  He 


72 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


meant  to  take  his  new  army  through  a pass  in  the 
Andes  which  led  right  into  the  heart  of  Spanish  pos- 
sessions in  New  Granada  and  at  one  blow  reconquer 
the  whole  territory.  This  mountain  route  was  con- 
sidered impassable  and  the  Spaniards  never  dreamed 
of  guarding  the  other  end.  In  torrents  of  rain  and 
most  of  the  time  wading  up  to  their  waists  in  water, 
the  soldiers  marched  across  trackless  plains  to  the 
foot  of  the  great  range.  Several  squadrons  deserted 
on  the  way.  One  of  Bolivar’s  officers  wrote  of  him : 
“He  was  very  active,  himself  setting  the  example  of 
labor,  and  frequently  working  harder  than  any  com- 
mon soldier.  On  passing  rapid  rivers  where  there 
were  no  fords,  he  was  constantly  to  be  seen  assisting 
the  men  over,  to  prevent  their  being  carried  away  by 
the  force  of  the  torrent;  and  carrying  on  his  own 
horse  ammunition,  arms,  and  pouches.  Whenever,  in 
short,  there  was  any  obstacle  to  be  overcome,  he  was 
constantly  on  the  spot,  both  directing  others  and  af- 
fording the  example  of  his  own  personal  exertions.” 
During  the  march  through  the  pass  over  one  hundred 
men  and  all  the  animals  died  of  exposure.  With  this 
mere  skeleton  of  an  army,  reinforced  by  New 
Granadian  soldiers,  Bolivar  pounced  upon  the  Spanish 
troops,  and  on  August  7,  in  less  than  two  hours,  won 
the  decisive  battle  of  Boyaca.  He  had  kept  his  word 
to  the  people  of  New  Granada,  and  a few  days  later 
he  entered  their  capital,  Bogota,  in  his  usual  spec- 
tacular fashion,  a crown  of  laurel  on  his  head. 

Besides  carrying  the  responsibility  of  the  entire 


BOLIVAR 


73 


campaign  on  his  shoulders  Bolivar  had  been  constantly 
working  to  establish  what  he  considered  an  ideal 
government.  He  believed  that  the  republics  could 
never  be  strong  unless  they  were  united.  He  had  set 
his  heart  on  a federation  of  Venezuela,  Newr  Granada, 
and  Quito  as  one  Republic,  called  Colombia,  with 
himself  as  president.  When  the  Venezuelan  Congress 
heard  that  he  had  gone  to  recover  New  Granada  with- 
out any  authority,  it  branded  him  as  a traitor  and 
appointed  another  general-in-chief ; when  news  of  the 
battle  of  Boyaca  came,  Congress  meekly  fell  in  with 
his  wishes,  consented  to  the  union  of  the  three  States, 
and  elected  him  president  of  the  Republic  of  Colombia. 
He  was  given  entire  control  of  the  army  and  power 
to  organize  as  he  pleased  other  provinces  which  he 
might  liberate.  But  Bolivar’s  insatiable  ambition 
wanted  more  than  this;  he  dreamed  of  a life  presi- 
dency. Strange  paradox  of  a patriot  fighting,  as 
Washington  fought  in  North  America,  for  political 
liberty  and  representative  government,  and  at  the 
same  time  coveting  for  himself  all  the  privileges  of  a 
king  except,  as  he  called  it,  “a  seat  on  the  four  crim- 
son-covered planks  which  are  styled  a throne !”  The 
sturdy  republican  representatives  of  Colombia,  how- 
ever, calmly  ignored  this  undemocratic  proposition, 
and  Bolivar  was  so  sensitive  to  public  opinion  and  so 
conscious  of  his  own  inconsistency  that  he  never  tried 
to  force  his  extreme  views  upon  any  congress. 

In  1820  King  Ferdinand  was  again  deposed,  and 
the  new  liberal  government  in  Spain  tried  to  make 


74 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


terms  with  Colombia  during  a six  months’  truce. 
Bolivar  used  this  breathing  space  very  profitably  by 
recruiting  troops  which  were  soon  going  to  show  the 
Royalists  just  what  kind  of  “terms”  they  might  ex- 
pect. For,  only  a year  later,  Bolivar  could  at  last 
salute  his  army,  as  it  passed  him  in  review  after  the 
great  battle  of  Carabobo  in  Venezuela,  with  the  words  : 
“Salvadores  de  mi  patriai”  Again  he  entered  Caracas 
in  triumph,  hailed  as  El  Libertador,  the  title  which,  six 
years  before,  he  had  publicly  sworn  to  deserve,  or  die. 

The  circle  of  liberated  colonies  was  now  almost 
complete.  Separating  Bolivar  and  Colombia  from 
San  Martin  and  Peru  were  the  provinces  of  Quito  and 
Guayaquil.  Part  of  his  army  Bolivar  sent  against 
Quito  by  sea,  under  General  Sucre.  He  himself 
marched  south.  Between  him  and  Quito  lay  a buzz- 
ing hornet’s  nest  of  Spanish  troops  under  a general 
who  confidently  promised  to  destroy  the  Liberator’s 
approaching  army.  “That  will  not  be  difficult,”  he 
was  told,  “for  you  have  forces  equal  to  Bolivar’s  and 
hold  impregnable  positions.”  Spurs  of  the  Andes 
sheltered  the  Spanish  lines,  and  to  make  an  attack 
Bolivar  would  have  to  cross  the  unprotected  plain  of 
Bombona,  leading  to  a ravine  whose  one  bridge  was 
covered  by  the  enemy’s  artillery.  “Well,”  remarked 
Bolivar,  “the  position  is  formidable,  but  we  cannot 
remain  here  nor  can  we  retreat.  We  have  got  to  con- 
quer and  we  will  conquer!”  As  his  army  advanced, 
rank  upon  rank  was  almost  completely  destroyed,  till 
when  night  came  on  he  called  upon  his  last  reserve 


BOLIVAR 


75 


battalion,  named  “Vencedor  en  Boyaca”  because  of  its 
bravery  at  that  battle.  “Battalion  Vencedor!”  he 
cried.  “Your  name  alone  suffices  for  victory.  For- 
ward ! and  assure  our  triumph !”  As  the  full  moon  rose 
over  the  plain,  word  came  that  the  enemy  were  in  re- 
treat. Sucre’s  army  meanwhile  had  liberated  Quito 
and  the  way  was  now  open  for  another  of  Bolivar’s 
triumphal  entries. 

Bolivar  then  fixed  his  covetous  eye  upon  the  little 
independent  province  of  Guayaquil  and  succeeded  in 
reaching  its  capital  ahead  of  San  Martin  who  wanted 
to  annex  it  to  Peru.  He  completely  cowed  the  junta 
by  a defiant  note:  “Guayaquil  knows  that  it  cannot 
remain  an  independent  State;  that  Colombia  cannot 
give  up  any  of  her  legitimate  rights;  and  that  there 
is  no  human  power  which  can  deprive  her  of  a hand- 
breadth  of  her  territory.”  So,  as  the  Department  of 
Ecuador,  Quito  and  Guayaquil  were  added  to  the 
elastic  Republic  of  Colombia.  Foreign  nations  now 
recognized  the  Republic,  and  the  Liberator  addressed 
a bulletin  to  the  people,  full  of  the  flowery  language 
he  loved  to  use  in  public:  “From  the  banks  of  the 

Orinoco  to  the  Andes  of  Peru  the  liberating  army, 
marching  from  one  triumph  to  another,  has  covered 
with  its  protecting  arms  the  whole  of  Colombia. 
Share  with  me  the  ocean  of  joy  which  bathes  my 
heart,  and  raise  in  your  own  hearts  altars  to  this  army 
which  has  given  you  glory,  peace,  and  liberty.” 

After  San  Martin  had  retired  in  his  favor,  Bolivar 
tackled  the  problem  of  Peru.  The  liberating  soldiers 


76 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


from  both  north  and  south,  he  told  Congress  at  Lima, 
“will  either  conquer  and  leave  Peru  free,  or  all  will 
die.  I promise  it.”  But  the  Royalists  held  most  of 
Peru,  the  people  were  apathetic  and  afraid  to  assist 
the  Republicans  openly,  troops  deserted,  and  ambitious 
patriots  seemed  to  spend  all  their  time  in  plotting 
against  each  other,  till  Bolivar  finally  wrote  to  a 
friend : “At  times  I lose  all  heart.  . . . It  is  only 

love  of  country  which  recalls  the  courage  lost  when  I 
contemplate  the  difficulties.  As  soon  as  obstacles  are 
overcome  in  one  direction  they  increase  in  another.” 
One  day  a messenger  came  to  him  at  his  headquarters 
with  the  news  that  the  president  of  Peru  had  turned 
traitor  and  that  the  patriot  garrison  of  Callao  Castle 
had  mutinied.  Bolivar  was  just  recovering  from  a 
serious  illness,  from  which  he  had  been  unconscious 
six  days,  and  he  sat  in  a rocking-chair  in  an  orchard, 
his  head  tied  up  with  a white  handkerchief.  He  was 
deathly  pale  and  almost  too  weak  to  talk. 

“What  do  you  think  of  doing  now?”  asked  the  mes- 
senger. 

“Of  triumphing,”  replied  Bolivar,  and  the  hopeless- 
ness of  the  situation  seemed  to  revive  him. 

He  sent  to  Colombia  for  reinforcements,  and  his 
letter  shows  how  his  impetuous  disposition  had  been 
tempered  during  the  years : “The  interests  of  all 

America  are  at  stake;  nothing  must  be  trusted  to 
probabilities,  still  less  to  chance.”  In  July,  1824, 
Bolivar’s  Colombian  lancers  won  the  battle  of  Junin 
in  three  quarters  of  an  hour.  Not  a single  shot  was 


BOLIVAR 


77 


fired  during  the  entire  engagement,  but  the  victory 
was  so  complete  that  the  Spanish  general,  Canterac, 
retreated  five  hundred  miles!  By  1826  Callao,  the 
last  and  most  stubborn  fortress  in  South  America,  sur- 
rendered. Bolivar’s  name  was  famous  all  over  the 
world.  “His  feats  of  arms,”  San  Martin  had  said, 
“entitle  him  to  be  considered  the  most  extraordinary 
character  that  South  America  has  produced ; of  a con- 
stancy to  which  difficulties  only  add  strength.”  He 
had  fought  in  more  than  four  hundred  battles  in  the 
course  of  twenty  years  and  he  had  won  the  freedom 
of  South  America,  as  he  once  vowed  he  would. 

What  Bolivar  could  not  do  was  to  create  a normal, 
orderly,  popular  government  for  his  countrymen.  He 
made  a great  political  mistake  when  he  tried  to  weld  a 
number  of  States,  each  inclined  to  be  jealous  of  the 
other,  into  one  harmonious  Republic.  They  resented 
his  summary  methods.  What  was  the  use  of  getting 
rid  of  Spanish  government  if  they  were  not  to  be 
allowed  to  rule  themselves  as  they  pleased?  When 
Bolivar  began  to  plan  the  union  of  Colombia,  Peru, 
and  Bolivia — the  latter  named  in  his  honor — into 
“the  Grand  Confederation  of  the  Andes,”  with  him- 
self as  supreme  authority,  rebellion  gradually  spread 
through  all  the  north.  Venezuela  first  withdrew  from 
Colombia,  and  Bolivar  was  forbidden  ever  to  return 
to  his  native  State.  Ecuador  also  became  a separate 
Republic.  The  Congress  of  Colombia  took  away  his 
military  power  because  for  two  years  he  had  man- 
aged the  affairs  of  Peru,  a foreign  State.  A pan- 


78  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


American  Congress  which  he  attempted  to  convene  in 
Panama — the  first  one  ever  held — was  a failure,  as 
well  as  a prophecy.  On  every  hand  were  plots  against 
him.  Yet  his  personal  prestige  was  still  immense,  and 
if  he  could  have  been  in  a hundred  places  at  once  he 
might  never  have  lost  his  hold  upon  the  people.  One 
of  the  very  men  who  schemed  for  his  overthrow 
wrote:  “Such  is  his  influence  and  such  the  secret 

power  of  his  will,  that  I myself,  on  many  occasions, 
have  approached  him  in  fury,  and,  merely  on  seeing 
and  hearing  him,  have  been  disarmed  and  have  left 
his  presence  filled  with  admiration.” 

He  felt  keenly  his  failure  to  unite  the  Republics  to 
which  he  had  devoted  his  life.  “I  have  plowed  in  the 
sand,”  he  admitted  bitterly,  and  discouraged  and  heart- 
sick at  the  anarchy  and  disorder  on  every  side,  he 
assembled  his  last  Congress  at  Bogota.  His  message 
ended  with  this  plea : “Compatriots ! hear  my  last 

word  on  the  termination  of  my  political  career.  In 
the  name  of  Colombia  I beg,  I pray  you  to  remain 
united,  in  order  not  to  become  the  assassins  of  your 
country,  and  your  own  executioners.”  His  resigna- 
tion was  accepted,  and  as  the  “first  and  best  citizen 
of  Colombia,”  so  decreed  by  Congress,  he  retired  to 
the  country  on  a government  pension,  for  all  his  wealth 
had  long  ago  gone  to  help  the  patriot  cause.  Physically 
and  mentally  Bolivar  was  utterly  worn  out  by  his  years 
of  incessant  campaigning,  and  by  his  deep  disappoint- 
ment. “Independence  is  the  only  good  thing  we  have 
gained  by  the  sacrifice  of  all  else,”  he  said  in  his  last 


BOLIVAR 


79 


public  address.  In  1830  he  died,  only  47  years  old. 

“El  Illustro  Americano ” — the  simple  title  has  been 
added  to  all  his  others.  He  had  driven  the  last 
Royalist  from  the  land  and  given  the  countries  of 
Spanish  America,  after  all  their  years  of  bondage,  a 
chance  to  make  their  own  way  upward  among  the 
Republics  of  the  world. 


JAMES  THOMSON 


Copyright  by  Underwood  & Underwood 


THE  CATHEDRAL,  LIMA,  PERU 

(Around  Which  Centered  Much  of  the  Bible-Selling 
Activity  of  James  Thomson) 


JAMES  THOMSON 

By  the  brisk  tap  of  his  ruler  or  a toot  on  the  whistle 
attached  to  his  watch-chain  young  schoolmaster  Thom- 
son would  bring  his  class  of  one  hundred  boys  to  order 
every  morning  promptly  at  ten  o’clock  to  begin  the 
day’s  program  of  “readin’,  writin’,  and  ’rithmetic.” 
In  all  Buenos  Aires  this  was  the  only  school  where 
a poor  man’s  son  could  afford  to  go,  and  James  Thom- 
son, a Scotchman,  had  been  sent  all  the  way  from 
London  by  the  English  and  Foreign  School  Society,  in 
the  year  1818,  to  start  it  and  others  like  it  in  South 
America. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century  an  Eng- 
lish boy  named  Joseph  Lancaster,  although  he  had 
almost  no  money  and  less  education  than  a high  school 
boy  of  to-day,  opened  a little  school  in  his  father’s 
house  and  taught  all  the  children  in  the  neighborhood 
without  requiring  any  tuition  fee.  When  the  classes 
grew  too  large  for  him  to  manage  all  alone,  he  trained 
his  oldest  and  brightest  boys  to  be  teachers  themselves 
and  hear  the  recitations  of  the  smaller  children.  Early 
each  morning  he  would  hold  a special  class  for  his 
monitors,  as  he  called  them,  and  teach  them  the  lessons 
which  they  in  turn  were  to  teach  that  day.  Lancaster’s 

83 


84  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


experiment  was  so  successful  that  in  the  United  States 
and  in  many  countries  of  Europe  schools  just  like  his 
were  opened,  and  he  became  famous  as  the  inventor  of 
the  first  public  school  system. 

Thomson’s  business  was  to  establish  Lancasterian 
schools.  But  he  had  still  another  errand  in  South 
America.  • As  an  agent  of  the  British  and  Foreign 
Bible  Society  he  had  charge  of  distributing  and  selling 
Spanish  Bibles  and  New  Testaments  wherever  he 
went.  These  two  projects  fitted  together  very  con- 
veniently, for  under  the  popular  new  school  system 
the  Bible  was  the  chief  textbook  for  all  reading  classes, 
and  even  the  smallest  children  learned  their  a-b-c’s 
from  Bible  stories.  Thomson  had  home  lessons  printed 
on  large  sheets  of  foolscap  paper,  and  when  the  chil- 
dren gathered  around  the  family  lamp  at  night  to 
study  and  read  aloud  the  next  day’s  lesson,  their  par- 
ents listened,  and  enjoyed  the  selections  so  much  that 
they  began  to  buy  Bibles.  Every  day  an  imposing 
array  of  visitors  came  to  inspect  the  new  school,  and 
before  they  left  had  usually  ordered  reading  books, 
curious  to  see  what  the  children  were  studying.  An 
old  Indian  chief,  who  came  to  “visit  school,”  bought 
a Bible  and  took  it  home  as  a great  prize  to  show  his 
tribe.  One  enterprising  gentleman  stole  a dozen  copies 
because  he  knew  he  could  get  a good  price  for  them. 
“It’s  too  bad,”  said  Thomson,  “but  he  will  be  sure  to 
sell  them  and  so  they  will  be  put  in  circulation  any- 
way.” 

Few  of  the  people  of  South  America  had  ever  read 


JAMES  THOMSON 


85 


the  Bible,  many  of  the  priests  knew  nothing  of  what 
it  contained,  and  it  was  almost  impossible  to  secure  a 
copy  even  had  it  occurred  to  any  one  to  want  to  read 
it.  When  Thomson  arrived  in  Buenos  Aires  the  cus- 
tom-house officials  frowned  darkly  upon  his  boxes  of 
Testaments  and  hinted  that  they  would  have  to  be 
examined  by  the  bishop,  until  he  explained  that  his 
chief  business  in  their  country  was  to  open  schools,  and 
that  the  Bibles  were  needed  for  his  pupils.  This  was 
an  “Open  Sesame.”  As  he  wrote  home  to  his  friends : 
“My  prominent  object  here  is  the  establishment  of 
schools.  I freely  and  openly  confess  this,  and  in  conse- 
quence am  everywhere  hailed  as  a friend.” 

Wherever  Thomson  went  he  found  encouragement 
and  a warm  welcome.  He  was  a Protestant  in  a Cath- 
olic country,  but  he  was  too  broad  and  sympathetic  to 
try  to  force  his  opinions  on  other  people,  and  he  had 
a genius  for  making  friends.  He  met  only  one  priest 
in  all  his  travels  who  disapproved  of  his  sale  of  Bibles, 
although  just  a few  years  later  the  distribution  of 
Bibles  was  absolutely  forbidden  by  the  Catholic 
Church.  This  priest  thought  that  the  Scriptures  ought 
never  to  be  sold  indiscriminately  to  any  one  who 
wanted  a good  new  book  to  read.  It  might  be  misun- 
derstood, particularly  if  no  notes  were  added  to  ex- 
plain difficult  passages.  Thomson  and  the  priest  be- 
came good  friends  and  spent  many  an  evening  amicably 
discussing  their  differences  of  opinion. 

As  soon  as  his  own  school  with  all  its  branches  in 
Buenos  Aires  was  running  smoothly,  Thomson  ac- 


86  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


cepted  an  invitation  from  the  officials  of  the  Chilean 
government.  They  had  been  begging  him  to  come  and 
open  schools  for  their  young  people,  and  had  sent  the 
boat  fare  for  his  long  journey  around  the  cape.  In 
1821  he  left  his  classes  in  the  care  of  a priest  who  had 
been  his  right-hand  man,  and  sailed  in  the  brig  Dragon 
for  Valparaiso. 

In  those  days,  when  South  Americans  were  fighting 
for  their  independence,  they  felt  a newly  awakened 
ambition  for  the  privileges  so  long  denied  them  by  the 
Spanish  ruling  class,  and  the  first  thing  they  wanted 
was  schools.  An  editorial  appeared  in  the  Chilean 
press  a few  days  after  Thomson  had  landed,  under 
the  title  of  “Public  Education”  : 

“Ignorance  is  one  of  the  greatest  evils  that  man  can 
suffer,  and  it  is  the  principal  cause  of  all  his  errors  and 
miseries.  It  is  also  the  grand  support  of  tyranny, 
and  ought,  therefore,  to  be  banished  by  every  means 
from  that  country  which  desires  a-  liberty  regulated 
by  laws,  customs  and  opinion.  . . . The  only  way 
we  can  form  an  acquaintance  with  great  men  is  by 
reading.  The  happy  day  is  now  arrived  when  the  in- 
finitely valuable  art  of  reading  is  to  be  extended  to 
every  individual  in  Chile.  Our  benevolent  government 
has  brought  to  this  place  Mr.  James  Thomson,  who 
has  established  in  Buenos  Aires  elementary  schools 
upon  that  admirable  system  of  Lancaster.  . . . He  is 
going  to  establish  schools  on  the  same  plan  in  this 
city,  from  which,  as  a center,  this  system  will  be  spread 
through  all  the  towns  of  the  state.  There  is  therefore 


JAMES  THOMSON  87 

no  obstacle  in  the  way  for  every  one  in  Chile  to  obtain 
education.” 

Governor  O’Higgins  of  Chile,  San  Martin’s  friend 
and  ally,  was  the  leading  spirit  in  all  public  enterprise. 
He  met  Thomson  with  the  greatest  enthusiasm,  and 
reserved  for  his  use  the  largest  classroom  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Santiago.  Within  two  weeks  two  hundred 
children  were  enrolled  in  the  first  school.  “They  are 
docile  and  agreeable,”  wrote  Thomson.  “I  have  just 
been  interrupted  by  one  of  my  scholars  who  has  called 
upon  me  and  brought  me  a ham,  a present  from  his 
mother.” 

All  the  important  men  in  the  city  were  interested  in 
the  new  schools  and  liked  to  visit  Thomson’s  classes. 
With  General  O’Higgins  as  president,  a School  Society 
was  founded  in  Chile,  and  a little  printing  office  opened 
so  that  primers  and  lesson  books,  especially  prepared 
by  Thomson  for  the  children,  could  be  published  for 
home  reading.  There  were  no  shelves  in  the  public 
libraries  packed  with  books  for  young  people,  no  low 
tables  covered  with  children’s  magazines.  There  was 
almost  nothing  for  them  to  read,  and  Thomson  often 
wished  that  he  had  a large  publishing  house  as  a part 
of  his  school  system. 

In  1822,  the  year  when  San  Martin  was  living 
quietly  in  Lima,  Thomson  left  his  schools  in  Chile  in 
good  running  order,  and  went  to  Peru  to  begin  his 
work  there.  With  a letter  of  introduction  he  called 
on  the  great  general.  “Next  day,  as  I was  sitting  in 
my  room,”  he  says,  “a  carriage  stopped  at  the  door 


88 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


and  my  little  boy  came  running  in,  crying,  ‘San 
Martin ! San  Martin !’  In  a moment  he  entered  the 
room  accompanied  by  one  of  his  ministers.  I would 
have  had  him  step  into  another  apartment  of  the  house 
more  suited  to  his  reception;  but  he  said  the  room 
answered  very  well  and  sat  down  on  the  first  chair  he 
reached.”  Then  they  talked  over  the  subject  of 
schools.  San  Martin  could  hardly  do  enough  to  help. 
A convent  was  given  Thomson  for  his  headquarters. 
On  the  Saturday  after  his  arrival  the  friars  who  lived 
in  it  were  ordered  to  move  to  another  house;  by  Tues- 
day they  had  gone  and  the  keys  were  in  his  possession. 
The  huge  dining-room  was  promptly  remodeled  to 
serve  as  a schoolroom  with  places  for  three  hundred 
children,  and  in  a few  days  the  school  was  well  under 
way. 

The  Patriotic  Society  in  Lima  cooperated  with 
Thomson  in  establishing  the  schools,  and  all  expenses, 
including  his  salary,  were  met  by  the  government. 
Every  one  treated  him  so  cordially  and  expressed  such 
interest  in  his  work  that  he  predicted  a glorious  future 
for  South  America.  He  believed  that  in  another 
decade  or  two  her  republics  would  outstrip  many  Euro- 
pean nations.  “I  do  think,”  he  wrote,  “that  never 
since  the  world  began  was  there  so  fine  a field  for  the 
exercise  of  benevolence  in  all  its  parts.” 

Then  came  a turning  point  in  the  history  of  Peru. 
The  first  Congress  met  to  draw  up  an  outline  of  the 
new  constitution.  The  whole  city  buzzed  with  specula- 
tion about  the  clauses  which  might  or  might  not  be 


JAMES  THOMSON 


89 


inserted,  and  groups  of  gesticulating  people  stood  on 
the  street  corners,  till  it  looked  like  an  election  day 
in  New  York.  The  clause  of  state  religion  was  the 
chief  bone  of  contention,  and  Thomson  was  always 
on  the  spot  when  it  was  debated  in  Congress.  One 
man  proposed  that  the  clause  read : “The  exclusive 
religion  of  the  state  is  the  Catholic  Apostolic  Church 
of  Rome.”  Since  all  South  Americans  were  then 
Roman  Catholics  anyway,  the  only  Protestants  were 
foreigners  like  Thomson.  The  whole  question  then 
was  whether  foreigners  should  be  allowed  to  worship 
as  they  pleased. 

“But,”  said  one  member  of  Congress,  “why  such 
ado  about  toleration?  Who  is  asking  for  it?  Or 
who  stands  in  need  of  it?  We  ourselves  do  not  need 
any  such  thing,  and  foreigners  who  are  here  seem 
very  little  concerned  about  the  subject.  It  was  not 
religion  that  brought  them  to  this  country,  but  com- 
merce. Give  them  money,  therefore,  in  exchange  for 
their  goods,  and  they  will  seek  nothing  else.” 

A white-haired  old  gentleman  on  the  committee 
rose  and  said : “Gentlemen,  this  is  the  first  time  I have 
risen  to  speak  in  this  house,  and  it  is  not  my  intention 
to  detain  you  long.  I understand  that  the  grand  and 
principal  features  of  our  religion  are  these  two:  to 
love  the  Lord  with  all  our  heart  and  strength  and  to 
love  our  neighbor  as  ourself.  . . . Now  I ask  whether 
foreigners  residing  amongst  us  are  to  be  considered 
our  neighbors  or  not.  If  they  are,  then  we  ought  to 
love  them.  Gentlemen,  I have  nothing  further  to  add.” 


90 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


One  fierce  old  senator  demanded  again  and  again 
that  Roman  Catholicism  be  the  only  religion  tolerated 
in  the  country.  The  majority  agreed  with  him.  The 
clause  for  toleration  was  voted  down.  In  those  few 
dramatic  moments  Peru  bound  herself  for  almost  half 
a century  to  the  policy  which  has  kept  her  lagging 
behind  other  nations,  even  other  South  American  re- 
publics, and  has  retarded  her  intellectual,  spiritual,  and 
commercial  development.  The  article  finally  inserted 
in  the  constitution  was  this:  “The  Roman  Catholic 
Apostolic  religion  is  the  religion  of  the  state,  and  the 
exercise  of  every  other  is  excluded.” 

Among  Thomson’s  best  friends  and  helpers  were  the 
priests.  Protestantism  was  then  such  a minute  influ- 
ence in  the  land  that  the  church  had  hardly  begun  to 
fear  its  power.  One  bishop  who  had  voted  against 
the  proposed  toleration  clause  afterward  learned  to 
know  Thomson  well,  and  told  him  that  he  had  always 
supposed  Protestants  to  be  unfriendly  to  any  kind 
of  religion,  and  that  the  article  finally  adopted  was 
only  a safeguard  against  scoffers,  such  as  the  men 
who  had  written  books  on  atheism  printed  in  England 
and  France  and  sold  in  South  America.  Thomson 
pointed  out  to  him  just  how  Congress  had  cut  off  its 
own  nose  by  inserting  the  clause : “Your  law  prohibit- 
ing the  public  religious  exercises  of  those  who  differ 
from  the  Catholic  Church  does  not  hinder  atheists 
from  settling  in  this  country,  as  these  have  no  form 
of  religion  they  wish  to  practise.  It  serves  only  to 
prevent  the  coming  of  those  men  who  are  sincerely 


JAMES  THOMSON 


9i 


religious  and  moral,  and  who  would  be  of  great  use 
to  the  country  by  bringing  into  it  many  branches  of 
the  arts  as  well  as  manufactures.” 

In  1823  war  broke  out  again,  and  the  Spanish  army, 
7,000  strong,  crossed  the  Andes  and  descended  upon 
Lima.  The  administration  “judged  it  most  suitable  to 
remove  from  the  scene  of  military  operations,”  and  the 
patriot  army  retreated  to  Callao.  With  an  old  friend, 
a priest  of  the  cathedral  of  Lima,  Thomson  escaped 
to  an  English  vessel  lying  in  Callao  harbor,  and  after 
waiting  several  days  for  a possible  opportunity  to 
return  to  his  school,  he  sailed  for  Truxillo  in  northern 
Peru  where  thousands  of  patriots  from  Lima  had 
already  gone.  “I  supplied  myself  with  some  dollars 
from  a friend,”  he  said  afterward,  “as  I had  left  Lima 
without  money  and  with  scarcely  any  clothes  other 
than  those  I had  on.” 

As  long  as  he  had  to  be  away  from  his  schools 
Thomson  planned  to  make  good  use  of  his  time  by 
traveling  along  the  banks  of  the  Amazon  to  visit  the 
Indian  tribes  living  there.  Just  as  he  had  bought  a 
complete  stock  of  glittering  brass  buttons,  needles, 
scissors,  knives,  ribbons,  and  fish-hooks  with  which  to 
win  the  good  opinion  of  these  natives,  word  came  that 
the  Spaniards  had  evacuated  Lima.  Thomson  acted 
decisively,  took  the  first  boat  back,  and  reopened  his 
school. 

The  longer  the  war  continued  the  poorer  the  people 
grew.  “This  war  rivets  the  attention  of  all,  and  de- 
vours all  the  resources,”  Thomson  wrote  in  a letter. 


92 


MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


During  the  month  when  they  held  Lima  the  Spaniards 
had  destroyed  or  confiscated  property  worth  $2,000,- 
000,  and  business  everywhere  was  sadly  crippled.  The 
city  which  had  once  been  the  richest  in  the  world  was 
now  the  poorest.  The  work  of  the  schools  was  ham- 
pered. Some  of  the  older  boys  dropped  out  because 
their  parents  feared  they  might  be  seized  on  the  way 
to  school  by  recruiting  parties  and  forced  into  the 
army.  Some  of  the  children  had  to  stay  at  home  be- 
cause they  had  no  shoes  to  wear.  The  government 
which  had  pledged  Thomson’s  support  became  too 
poor  to  pay  his  salary.  With  prices  higher  than  they 
had  ever  been  he  found  himself  utterly  destitute  and 
hurriedly  prepared  to  leave  Lima.  Just  as  he  had 
finished  his  packing  he  received  a message  from  the 
parents  of  his  pupils  urging  him  to  stay.  They  pooled 
all  the  money  they  could  spare  to  pay  his  salary,  and 
promised  to  support  the  school  until  the  government 
was  able  to  do  it. 

Thomson  had  a great  vision  and  a great  hope  for 
South  America.  His  chief  regret  was  that,  because 
of  the  unsettled  state  of  the  country,  it  was  impossible 
to  open  a girls’  school,  though  a large  hall  had  been 
selected  for  it  and  now  stood  empty.  “The  education 
of  women,”  he  declared,  “is  the  thing  most  wanted 
in  every  country;  and  when  it  is  properly  attended  to 
the  renovation  of  the  world  will  go  on  rapidly.”  He 
gave  much  of  his  time  to  translating.  For  the  use 
of  a class  of  twenty-three  men  who  were  studying 
English  he  prepared  a Spanish-English  grammar  and 


JAMES  THOMSON  93 

a volume  of  extracts  from  great  authors.  He  heard 
the  story  of  the  Incas  and  saw  the  ruins  of  their  em- 
pire. Two  thirds  of  the  people  in  Peru  were  their 
descendants  and  spoke  their  language,  Quichua.  With 
the  help  of  an  officer  of  the  Indian  regiment  Thomson 
translated  the  Bible  for  them.  For  five  years  he 
hunted  in  vain  for  a man  able  to  translate  the  Bible 
into  Aymara,  another  native  language  spoken  in  Peru. 
Then  one  day  after  he  had  returned  to  London,  he 
met  a stranger  in  a Paddington  coach.  The  two 
chatted  a bit  together,  and  Thomson,  seeing  that  the 
man  was  a foreigner,  asked  him  where  his  home  was. 
He  proved  to  be  a native  of  the  very  district  in  Peru 
where  Aymara  was  spoken,  and  he  knew  the  language 
perfectly.  Eventually  he  was  appointed  to  translate 
the  Bible  for  his  countrymen. 

Meanwhile  Thomson  was  selling  so  many  Bibles 
that  he  wrote  home:  “If  I had  ten  times  as  many  I 
am  persuaded  I could  have  sold  them  all.”  He  used 
to  see  shopkeepers  seated  in  front  of  their  little  estab- 
lishments, spending  leisure  moments  in  reading  their 
Testaments.  The  priests  encouraged  it.  One  showed 
his  interest  by  offering  to  correct  the  proof-sheets  of 
the  Quichua  translation. 

Thomson  was  a great  admirer  of  Bolivar,  who,  like 
the  other  great  men  of  the  day,  supported  every  move- 
ment for  the  betterment  of  the  people.  “Bolivar’s 
weatherbeaten  face  tells  you  that  he  has  not  been  idle,” 
Thomson  said  of  him.  “No  man,  I believe,  has  borne 
so  much  of  the  burden,  or  has  toiled  so  hard  in  the 


94  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


heat  of  the  day,  in  the  cause  of  South  American  inde- 
pendence as  Bolivar.” 

For  another  year  Thomson  remained  in  Lima  and 
then  the  Spaniards  again  took  possession  of  the  city 
and  he  declared  he  felt  as  if  he  had  been  “transported 
to  Spain.”  The  schools  were  allowed  to  go  on  as 
usual,  but  the  printing  of  translations  had  to  be  post- 
poned because  the  printing  presses  were  shut  up  for 
safe  keeping  in  Callao  castle.  Until  the  government 
should  be  restored  to  order  no  improvements  could  be 
made  in  the  schools,  and  Thomson  decided  it  was  the 
most  favorable  time  to  visit  other  cities. 

His  supply  of  Bibles  had  been  exhausted,  and  no 
more  had  come  to  him  from  England,  so  he  started 
off  on  his  trip  with  eight  hundred  New  Testaments  and 
one  sample  copy  of  the  Bible.  On  the  way  to  Guaya- 
quil his  ship  called  at  a small  port.  “I  went  ashore  to 
see  the  place,”  he  said,  “and  took  three  Testaments 
with  me.  I went  into  a store  near  the  landing  place 
and  being  invited  took  a seat  upon  a bale  of  cotton. 
After  some  general  conversation  I opened  my  trea- 
sures, and  offered  the  New  Testaments  for  sale  at 
one  dollar  each.  In  a few  minutes  they  were  bought. 
Some  little  time  afterward  I was  asked  if  I had  any 
more.  I replied  that  I had  but  that  they  were  on  the 
ship.  I immediately  went  on  board  and  just  as  we 
had  got  the  anchor  up  a boat  came  alongside  in  which 
I recognized  the  person  who  had  asked  me  for  more 
Testaments.  He  came  on  board  and  bought  two  dozen 
for  which  he  paid  me  eighteen  dollars.” 


JAMES  THOMSON 


95 


At  another  port  Thomson  went  ashore  with  three 
Testaments,  and  was  invited  to  exhibit  them  in  a pri- 
vate house. 

“Here,”  said  a neighbor  who  had  come  in  and  was 
looking  at  the  sample  Bible,  “here  is  a book  that  will 
tell  you  all  about  the  beginning  of  the  world  and  a 
great  many  other  things.” 

“I’m  not  interested  in  the  beginning.  I want  to 
know  something  about  the  end  of  it,”  said  another 
man. 

“Then  that  book  in  your  hands  is  the  very  book 
that  will  suit  you,”  replied  Thomson,  pointing  to  a 
New  Testament.  “It  will  tell  you  a great  deal  about 
the  end  of  the  world.” 

Thomson  was  a fine  salesman,  and  knew  how  to 
advertise  his  wares.  As  soon  as  he  reached  Guayaquil 
he  had  handbills  printed  which  read : 

“To  be  sold  at  Blank’s  Store,  the  New  Testament 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  in  one  volume,  well  printed 
and  neatly  bound,  at  the  low  price  of  eight  rials.  This 
sale  will  continue  for  three  days  only,  and  it  is  ex- 
pected that  those  who  wish  to  procure  for  themselves 
this  sacred  code  of  our  holy  religion  will  improve  the 
occasion  now  offered  them.” 

At  noon  these  bills  were  posted.  By  one  o’clock 
fifteen  books  had  been  sold;  by  the  end  of  the  after- 
noon one  hundred  and  twenty-two  had  gone.  One  of 
the  three  days  of  the  sale  proved  to  be  a holiday,  and 
all  stores  were  closed,  but  during  a few  minutes  before 
breakfast  when  the  store  had  to  be  opened  for  some 


96  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


trifle,  eleven  people  came  in  to  buy  Testaments.  At 
the  end  of  the  third  day  the  receipts  amounted  to  five 
hundred  and  forty-two  dollars.  While  Thomson  was 
waiting  at  the  little  river  wharf  for  the  boat  which 
was  to  take  him  on  to  the  next  town,  he  sold  over  one 
hundred  more  Testaments  to  people  who  had  missed 
the  sale.  Then  he  climbed  into  one  of  the  passenger 
canoes  which  plied  along  the  river  and  his  boxes  were 
loaded  in  after  him.  The  canoe  was  the  same  shape 
as  the  usual  Indian  canoe,  but  so  large  that  it  could 
hold  perhaps  twenty  passengers.  “The  South 
American  rivers  abound  in  alligators,”  he  reported. 
“Great  numbers  of  them  lie  basking  on  the  banks 
with  their  horrible  mouths  wide  open,  and  when  the 
boat  approaches  them,  they  plunge  into  the  river  and 
swim  around  like  so  many  logs  floating  about  you. 
At  one  time  I counted  alligators,  in  a very  short  dis- 
tance, all  at  one  view  and  on  one  side  of  the  river, 
to  the  number  of  forty.” 

After  his  river  trip  the  rest  of  the  journey  had  to 
be  made  on  muleback.  The  officials  of  the  towns  along 
the  road  to  Quito  treated  him  with  great  cordiality. 
Once  when  he  had  taken  refuge  from  a sudden  storm 
in  a dreary  hut  among  the  mountains,  a courier  ar- 
rived, sent  by  the  governor  of  the  town  he  had  just 
left,  bringing  a large  hamper  of  luncheon.  The  best 
part  of  it,  Thomson  said,  was  a batch  of  home-made 
drop-cakes.  He  was  often  entertained  at  the  home 
of  the  governor  of  the  town  where  he  happened  to 
halt  for  the  night,  and  more  than  once  he  held  his 


JAMES  THOMSON  97 

sale  in  the  governor’s  own  house,  where  it  had  all  the 
festivity  of  a grand  social  event. 

While  riding  along  an  unfrequented  road  one  day 
he  fell  in  with  a talkative  friar  and  the  two  ambled 
along  together.  The  friar  was  bound  for  a Dominican 
convent  in  the  next  town,  and  he  liked  his  new  ac- 
quaintance so  much  that  he  invited  him  to  spend  the 
night  at  this  convent  and  next  day  hold  his  sale  there 
instead  of  at  a store.  Thomson  accepted  the  invitation, 
and  as  soon  as  the  sun  rose  next  morning  he  posted 
his  handbills  and  waited  for  customers. 

“The  advertisements  were  scarcely  up,”  he  wrote, 
“when  one  and  another  and  another  came  tripping  in 
to  purchase  a New  Testament.  In  a little  the  buyers 
thickened,  whilst  the  friars  stood  around  enjoying  the 
sight,  and  warmly  recommending  the  books  to  all  who 
came,  and  assisted  me  in  the  sale  when  occasion  re- 
quired.” In  two  hours  and  a half  one  hundred  and 
four  had  been  sold.  People  constantly  offered  large 
sums  for  the  sample  Bible.  He  told  them  all  it  was 
not  for  sale,  but  he  sometimes  lent  it,  and  he  took  hun- 
dreds of  orders  to  be  filled  as  soon  as  the  publishers 
in  England  could  send  over  a supply.  When  the 
priests  in  the  convent  found  they  could  not  buy  the 
Bible  they  immediately  sat  down  to  read  it  aloud,  and 
before  he  left  they  had  promised  him  to  hold  a sale 
themselves.  “We  were  all  pleased  with  each  other,” 
said  Thomson. 

From  Quito  to  Bogota  the  trail  was  especially  rough 
and  dangerous.  Bandits  galloped  about  over  the 


98  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


countryside  and  not  long  before  had  robbed  and  mur- 
dered some  merchants  who  had  been  well  protected 
with  arms  and  guides.  Of  the  mountain  traveling 
Thomson  said : “You  may  be  said  to  be  riding  upstairs 
and  downstairs  in  these  places.”  Part  of  the  trip  was 
made  in  a balsa,  a kind  of  craft  consisting  of  long  poles 
or  trunks  of  trees  laid  close  to  each  other,  with  more 
poles  laid  over  them  crosswise.  With  its  bamboo  floor 
and  thatched  roof  it  looked  like  a little  floating  house. 

Thomson’s  chief  desire  in  going  to  Bogota  was  to 
found  a Bible  Society.  Three  hundred  of  the  most 
prominent  citizens  of  the  city  attended  the  first  meet- 
ing. The  question  to  be  voted  upon  read:  “Is  it 
compatible  with  our  laws  and  customs,  as  Colombians 
and  as  members  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  to 
establish  a Colombian  Bible  Society  in  this  capital,  as 
a national  organization,  whose  only  object  is  to  print 
and  circulate  the  Holy  Scriptures  in  approved  ver- 
sions of  our  native  tongue?”  The  motion  was  carried 
almost  unanimously.  It  was  decided  to  hold  the  meet- 
ings in  a Dominican  convent,  and  a priest  was  elected 
secretary.  Catholic  and  Protestant  were  working  to- 
gether in  harmony  to  introduce  the  Bible. 

In  1826  Thomson  returned  to  England  to  make  a 
report  of  his  eight  years  in  South  America.  “I  have 
no  hesitation  in  saying  that  the  public  voice  is  decid- 
edly in  favor  of  universal  education.”  The  elective 
franchise  in  Peru  had  been  opened  to  all  men  who 
could  read  and  write.  But  because  the  Spaniards  had 
kept  the  Creoles  in  ignorance  so  long,  Congress  per- 


JAMES  THOMSON  99 

mitted  them  a little  leeway,  and  the  rule  was  not  to  be 
put  in  force  until  1840.  Thomson,  encouraged  by  his 
experiences  in  Peru,  prophesied  that  by  then  every 
one  would  be  qualified  to  vote! 

To-day  75  per  cent  of  the  population  of  South 
America  are  illiterate.  When  the  wars  for  independ- 
ence were  over,  the  people  fell  back  into  their  old 
apathy,  the  schools  declined,  the  church  forbade  the 
use  of  the  Bible.  In  a few  years  the  results  of  Thom- 
son’s labors  had  almost  disappeared.  In  Chile  the 
man  who  had  been  appointed  to  superintend  the 
schools  returned  to  England  for  his  health;  there  was 
no  firm  hand  to  manage  the  system  and  it  was  finally 
abandoned  altogether.  After  Thomson  had  left  Peru, 
Bolivar  decreed  that  a central  school  be  opened  in  the 
capital  city  of  each  province  of  the  state,  and  a number 
of  young  men  were  sent  at  th’e  expense  of  the  govern- 
ment to  receive  the  best  possible  education  in  England 
to  fit  them  as  teachers.  But  Bolivar’s  influence  was 
waning  and  there  is  no  record  that  anything  came 
of  his  plan.  The  Lancasterian  system  reached  a prema- 
ture end  of  usefulness  and  disappeared  with  nothing 
to  take  its  place.  The  church,  the  mightiest  power  in 
the  state,  reached  out  to  crush  the  initiative  of  the 
people,  and  the  priests  followed  the  Spaniards  as 
tyrants  in  the  land.  They  no  longer  bought  Bibles. 
They  burned  them  in  the  public  squares. 

Thomson’s  eight  years  made  a slight  oasis  in  the 
barren  history  of  Spanish-American  absolutism.  It 
was  the  time  when  Protestantism,  and  the  Bible,  and 


100  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


religious  liberty  might  have  been  put  there  to  stay. 
They  were  years  of  wonderful  opportunity.  The 
doors  were  opened  a wide  crack  to  let  the  light  shine 
in  and  then  slammed  shut.  Progressive  forces  ever 
since  have  been  trying  to  pry  them  open  again.  Single- 
handed,  James  Thomson  labored  in  the  one  golden 
decade  of  the  Continent  of  Lost  Opportunity. 


ALLEN  GARDINER 


ALLEX  F.  GARDIXER 


ALLEN  GARDINER 


When  the  Inca  chieftains  of  Peru  fought  their  way 
southward  among  rebel  Indian  tribes,  they  found  liv- 
ing in  lower  Chile  a race  of  men  who  refused  to  be 
conquered.  A little  later  the  Spanish  invaders  made 
the  same  discovery.  Here  were  a stubborn,  indepen- 
dent people  who  loved  their  liberty  and  meant  to  keep 
it.  They  proved  to  be  as  vigorous  warriors  as  the 
Spaniards  themselves,  and  quick  to  imitate  their 
weapons  and  methods  of  warfare.  So  great  an  honor 
did  these  Indians  consider  death  in  battle  that  their 
chiefs  had  to  hold  them  back  rather  than  urge  them 
forward.  One  of  their  generals,  when  dying,  ordered 
that  his  body  be  burned,  so  that  he  might  rise  to  the 
clouds  and  there  keep  on  fighting  with  the  souls  of  dead 
Spaniards.  These  Indians,  “with  bodies  of  iron  and 
souls  of  tigers,”  are  the  Araucanians,  the  only  natives 
of  the  Western  Hemisphere  who  were  able  to  resist 
European  invaders.  They  have  always  regarded  out- 
siders as  beings  inferior  to  themselves,  and  this  racial 
pride  has  made  them  slow  to  accept  modern  ideas. 
“The  most  furious  and  valiant  people  in  America,” 
they  have  been  called,  and  to  this  day  they  have  kept  a 
large  part  of  their  independence. 

At  the  tip  end  of  South  America  among  the  islands 
of  Tierra  del  Fuego,  in  Patagonia,  live  some  wander- 

103 


io4  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 

ing  tribes  of  grotesque,  savage,  unkempt  natives  who 
are  considered  about  the  most  degraded  and  repulsive 
specimens  of  the  human  race.  Instead  of  an  articulate 
language  they  speak  in  hoarse,  jerky,  unintelligible 
grunts.  No  vestige  of  religious  belief  has  been  found 
among  them.  There  is  no  word,  no  grunt,  in  their 
language  to  express  deity.  When  Darwin  visited  this 
region  he  declared  that  these  hopeless  creatures  were 
lower  than  many  animals  and  incapable  of  being  civil- 
ized. 

These  two  races  more  than  any  others  roused  the 
interest  and  sympathy  of  Captain  Allen  Gardiner,  an 
English  naval  officer,  as  he  traveled  in  different  parts 
of  the  world;  and  among  them  he  tried,  but  failed,  to 
establish  missionary  settlements.  To  a man  who  has 
sailed  all  over  the  globe,  big  distances  grow  trivial, 
and  the  races  of  men  seem  like  members  of  one  large 
family.  Captain  Gardiner  was  never  a minister  or 
an  appointed  missionary.  When  he  started  out  he 
had  no  connection  with  any  mission  board;  he  was 
simply  a Christian  layman,  anxious  to  hold  out  a help- 
ing hand  to  the  people  in  the  human  family  who  needed 
it  most. 

The  superficiality  of  all  religious  life  in  the  cities 
on  the  west  coast  of  South  America  which  he  visited 
while  cruising  in  H.  M.  S.  Dauntless,  had  particularly 
stirred  him  to  indignation : the  harshness  and  intoler- 
ance of  the  priests;  the  contrast  between  the  spectac- 
ular ceremonies  in  elaborate  cathedrals  and  the  poverty 
and  ignorance  of  the  masses  of  people.  If  this  was  the 


ALLEN  GARDINER 


!05 


best  specimen  of  Christianity  that  the  most  civilized 
centers  could  produce,  there  would  seem  to  be  little 
hope  for  the  Indians.  He  appreciated  the  splendid 
possibilities  of  the  Araucanians,  the  fine  material 
going  to  waste;  while  for  the  poor  Fuegians,  utterly 
neglected  and  hopeless,  he  felt  the  greatest  compassion ; 
he  knew  in  his  heart  that  they  were  worth  saving 
though  it  might  take  a hundred  centuries.  Some  one 
must  plunge  in  and  make  a beginning.  His  plan  of 
procedure  was  to  enter  these  inaccessible  regions,  live 
among  the  natives,  learn  their  customs  and  language 
and  win  their  confidence,  and  when  the  way  was  clear 
bring  in  missionaries  to  found  a permanent  settlement. 
He  worked  on  the  principle  that : “We  can  never  do 
wrong  in  casting  the  gospel  net  on  any  side  or  in  any 
place.” 

At  that  time  he  had  no  success  in  rousing  a similar 
enthusiasm  for  South  American  Indians  among  the 
members  of  the  London  Missionary  Society.  With 
his  own  income  and  the  moral  support  of  the  Society 
he  went  first  to  South  Africa  and  initiated  the  Zulu 
mission.  “Poor  Captain  Gardiner!  We  shall  never 
see  him  again,”  said  those  people  who  always  look 
with  suspicion  upon  anything  new  and  novel.  With 
“his  clothes,  his  saddle,  a spoon,  and  a New  Testa- 
ment,” he  settled  down  among  the  natives.  “We  do 
not  wish  to  learn  it,”  they  told  him  ominously  when 
he  produced  his  Testament,  “but  if  you  will  show  us 
how  to  use  the  nice  musket  you  may  stay.”  The  pres- 
ent of  a red  cloak  put  the  chief  into  a most  friendly 


io6  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


frame  of  mind,  and  for  three  years  the  mission  pros- 
pered until  a war  between  the  Zulus  and  the  Boers 
drove  all  white  people  from  the  district. 

Then  with  his  wife  and  two  children  Captain  Gard- 
iner went  to  South  America,  eager  to  begin  on  his  own 
responsibility  a tour  of  investigation  among  the 
Indians.  Traveling  was  no  hardship  for  him.  He  was 
a born  wanderer  and  explorer.  He  loved  roughing  it 
in  the  open : sleeping  under  the  stars,  galloping  over 
the  plains  to  visit  some  rascally  Indian  chief,  crawling 
through  mountain  passes  on  muleback,  fording  treach- 
erous rivers.  He  was  a superb  horseman  and  swimmer. 
One  time  on  coming  to  a river  too  high  to  be  forded, 
he  says,  “I  engaged  an  Indian  to  swim  across  with  me, 
and  away  we  went,  leaning  together  on  a bundle  of 
reeds.  The  current  was  fully  four  and  one  half  or  five 
knots,  but  we  gained  the  opposite  side  in  good  style,  the 
Indians  all  aghast  to  see  that  a white  man  could  swim 
as  well  as  themselves.” 

At  Buenos  Aires  the  Gardiners  packed  themselves 
and  their  baggage  into  a galera,  or  omnibus,  drawn  by 
five  mounted  horses,  which  was  to  carry  them  over  the 
Argentine  pampas  to  Mendoza.  The  family  slept  and 
did  most  of  its  housekeeping  inside  the  galera  or  by 
the  side  of  the  road,  because  the  post-houses  along  the 
way,  usually  miserable  hovels  with  mud  floors,  were 
quite  uninhabitable.  The  main  discomforts  were  the 
ragged  roads  on  which  the  clumsy  wagon  was  “not 
merely  rocked,  but  agitated  to  excess”;  and  the  rain 
leaked  in  upon  the  family  apartment  so  freely  that 


ALLEN  GARDINER 


107 


Captain  Gardiner  had  to  drill  holes  in  the  floor  to 
drain  it  off.  One  large  river  had  to  be  forded,  and 
the  entire  contents  of  the  galera  were  transferred  to  a 
raft  floated  on  casks,  while  the  horses,  with  the  peons 
on  their  backs,  half  swam,  half  scrambled  across  with 
the  wagon  bumping  along  behind.  There  was  always 
danger  from  wandering  Indians  who  sometimes  came 
galloping  down  upon  travelers,  whirling  their  metal- 
tipped  lassos,  and  with  this  possibility  to  spur  them  on, 
the  party  reached  Mendoza  in  fourteen  days,  record 
time. 

The  next  stage  of  the  journey  was  crossing  the 
Andes  on  mule-back.  The  procession  which  ambled 
forth  from  the  town  began  with  a piebald  mare  on  a 
leading  string  with  a jangling  bell  around  her  neck. 
The  mules  liked  the  sound  of  this  bell  and  it  kept  them 
from  stopping  to  browse.  After  the  seven  baggage 
mules  came  the  children  in  panniers,  one  on  each  side 
of  a mule,  led  by  a mounted  peon.  Captain  and  Mrs. 
Gardiner  in  the  rear  kept  a watchful  eye  on  the  whole 
party.  “While  ascending  the  winding  pathway  which 
leads  to  the  ‘Bad  Pass,’  ” writes  Gardiner,  “one  of 
the  mules  had,  unperceived  by  me,  been  stopped  by  the 
arriero  to  have  his  pack  adjusted.  Just  as  we  had 
reached  a point  where  it  was  impossible  for  two 
animals  to  pass  abreast  without  one  of  them  being 
hurled  down  the  precipice  into  the  river  below,  I per- 
ceived this  liberated  mule  hastening  towards  us  with 
apparent  determination  to  pass.  So  imminent  was  the 
danger  that  the  poles  were  within  three  or  four  feet  of 


io8  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


Mrs.  Gardiner’s  head,  who  was  riding  immediately 
behind  me;  in  another  second  a mere  twist  of  the 
animal’s  body  might  have  proved  fatal.  Sliding  off  my 
horse,  I providentially  was  enabled  as  promptly  to 
unseat  her  as  I had  done  myself ; we  then  crept  into  a 
hollow  formed  by  an  overhanging  rock,  and  with  the 
children  waited  in  safety  until  the  whole  cavalcade  had 
passed  by.” 

The  River  Biobio  bordered  the  territory  belonging 
to  the  Araucanians.  The  commandant  of  this  frontier 
warned  Captain  Gardiner  that  his  plan  to  enter  was 
unsafe,  but  helped  him  in  every  way  he  could.  With 
a servant  and  a government  interpreter,  Gardiner  rode 
to  the  nearest  Indian  district,  and  the  first  person  he 
met  happened  to  be  the  chief  himself,  Corbalan.  “He 
received  me  with  much  hospitality,”  Gardiner  wrote 
in  his  journal,  “and  before  even  a hint  was  given  of 
any  intended  present,  a sheep  was  ordered  to  be  dressed 
and  killed  for  our  supper.  Before  we  retired,  for 
which  purpose  Corbalan  ordered  a smooth  bullock’s 
hide  to  be  spread  for  us  on  the  floor,  much  conversa- 
tion took  place  around  the  fire,  for  besides  his  two 
wives  and  other  members  of  his  family,  some  men 
from  the  neighborhood  had  joined  the  party.  Cor- 
balan was  informed  of  my  desire  to  acquire  his  lan- 
guage, in  order  that  I might  impart  to  his  people  the 
knowledge  of  the  true  God,  as  also  of  my  wish  to 
obtain  his  consent  to  bring  my  family  and  reside  in 
his  immediate  neighborhood.  Such  a purpose  seemed 
altogether  strange  to  his  ears;  still  he  made  no  objec- 


ALLEN  GARDINER 


109 

tion,  and  after  some  further  explanation,  he  seemed 
to  enter  cordially  into  it.” 

The  next  morning  neighboring  chiefs  arrived  by 
invitation  to  welcome  the  newcomer.  Two  of  them 
presented  him  with  boiled  fowls.  “Where  to  bestow 
this  unexpected  token  of  friendship  in  my  case  was 
rather  puzzling;  the  interpreter,  however,  at  once 
relieved  me  of  my  dilemma  by  depositing  them  in  his 
saddle-bag.”  Then  Captain  Gardiner  produced  some 
colored  handkerchiefs  and  brass  buttons  and  returned 
the  compliment.  A few  days  later  he  selected  a site  for 
his  mission-house.  “But,”  he  says,  “I  had  no  sooner 
pointed  it  out  to  Corbalan  than  it  became  evident  that 
his  mind  on  this  point  had  undergone  considerable 
change.  . . . He  plainly  acknowledged  that,  not- 

withstanding what  he  had  said  before,  he  must  with- 
draw his  consent.  His  neighbors,  a large  and  warlike 
tribe,  would  be  offended;  they  would  not  permit  a 
foreigner  to  live  so  near  them,  for  as  soon  as  they 
heard  it  they  would  attack  him,  and  he  should  not  be 
able  to  resist  them.” 

In  four  other  districts  and  the  island  of  Chiloe 
Captain  Gardiner  made  every  effort  to  get  permission 
to  settle.  The  chiefs  were  friendly,  but  either  preju- 
diced against  him  by  the  Catholic  friars,  or  fearing 
that  he  had  some  ulterior  motive  in  coming  among 
them,  they  refused  everywhere  to  let  him  stay.  In  one 
place  the  chief  told  him  that  he  had  never  allowed  a 
stranger  to  live  among  his  people,  but  in  this  case  he 
would  make  an  exception  on  condition  that  he  be  pre- 


no  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


sented  with  a bar  of  salt  and  a pound  of  indigo. 
Afterward  when  Captain  Gardiner  had  rented  a little 
cottage  in  the  village,  moved  all  his  furniture  into  it, 
set  up  the  bedsteads  and  prepared  everything  for  his 
family,  the  old  chief  abruptly  informed  him  that  in 
one  moon’s  time  he  would  have  to  go.  This  meant 
repacking  all  his  possessions  and  carting  them  back 
to  the  frontier,  for  it  was  not  worth  while  moving  his 
family  for  one  month’s  stay.  Another  chief  “quite 
laughed  at  my  design  of  passing  forwards  to  visit  some 
other  chiefs  beyond.  No  Spaniards,  he  said,  were  liv- 
ing in  these  parts ; they  were  not  permitted  to  remain.” 
He  wrote  to  a friend : “Having  at  last  abandoned 
all  hope  of  reaching  the  Indian  inhabitants  where  they 
are  most  civilized  and  least  migratory,  my  thoughts 
are  necessarily  turned  towards  the  south.  . . . Hap- 
pily for  us  the  Falkland  Islands  are  now  under  the 
British  Flag.  Making  this  our  place  of  residence,  I 
intend  to  cross  over  in  a sealer,  and  spend  the  summer 
among  the  Patagonians.”  Patagonia  was  a land  of 
which  a Spanish  captain  in  the  18th  century  reported 
that  “he  had  surveyed  all  . . . without  finding  one 
place  fit  for  forming  a settlement  upon,  on  account  of 
the  barrenness  of  the  soil.” 

The  government  station  on  the  Falkland  Islands 
was  small  and  dreary,  but  the  people  welcomed  the 
Gardiners  and  helped  them  build  a little  wooden  house 
on  the  barren,  treeless  shore.  The  weeks  went  by  and 
no  regular  sailing  vessel  came  which  could  take  the 
Captain  over  to  Tierra  del  Fuego.  Finally  the  master 


ALLEN  GARDINER 


hi 


of  a rickety  old  schooner  agreed  to  make  the  trip  for 
£100. 

The  first  encounter  with  the  natives  was  discourag- 
ing. Two  of  them  appeared  on  the  beach  to  meet  their 
callers.  “Each  had  a bow  and  quiver  of  arrows.  They 
spoke  loudly  and  made  very  plain  signs  for  their  vis- 
itors to  go  away.  . . . They  received  the  presents 

which  were  offered  them,  such  as  brass  buttons,  a clasp 
knife,  and  a worsted  comforter,  and  condescended  to 
sit  down  with  what  seemed  a kind  of  sullen  resolution 
not  to  relax  their  features  or  utter  another  word.” 
On  making  a second  landing  the  party  found  a more 
responsive  tribe.  As  soon  as  they  had  pitched  their 
tent,  the  natives  with  grim  curiosity,  moved  their  own 
tents,  seventeen  of  them,  with  all  their  belongings, 
into  a row  behind  Captain  Gardiner’s  where  they  could 
watch  proceedings,  and  in  two  or  three  hours  had 
transferred  their  whole  village.  Gardiner  met  here 
a friendly  chief  named  Wissale  and  a woolly-haired 
North  American  Negro,  Isaac,  who  could  speak  Eng- 
lish. He  explained  his  errand,  how  he  wished  to  live 
with  them  in  order  to  teach  them  good  things  out  of 
the  Book  which  he  had  brought.  Wissale  was  agree- 
ably impressed  with  this  program,  enjoyed  the  refresh- 
ments served  him,  and  replied : “It  is  well.  We  shall 
be  brothers.” 

So  peaceable  were  the  natives  and  so  friendly  was 
the  cheerful  old  chief  that  Gardiner  joyfully  began 
to  plan  for  a mission-station.  With  his  family  he 
returned  to  England  to  collect  funds,  but  he  met  with 


1 12  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


little  response.  The  missionary  organizations  were 
not  prosperous  enough  to  undertake  the  business,  and 
the  popular  feeling  about  South  America  seemed  to 
be:  “It  is  the  natural  inheritance  of  pope  and  pagan; 
let  it  alone.”  It  was  not  till  three  years  later  that  he 
could  at  last  carry  out  his  plan.  A new  organization 
named  the  Patagonian  Missionary  Society,  now  known 
as  the  South  American  Missionary  Society,  was  formed 
for  the  purpose  by  Gardiner,  with  the  help  of  men  who 
had  caught  the  contagious  spirit  of  his  enthusiasm.  But 
by  that  time  it  was  too  late;  the  golden  opportunity 
had  passed.  When  Gardiner  reached  the  Strait  of 
Magellan  once  more,  bringing  a missionary  with  him, 
he  found  that  Wissale  had  lost  his  wealth  and  prestige, 
an  unfriendly  chief  was  in  power,  and  the  padre  in  a 
new  settlement  not  far  away  had  begun  to  teach  the 
Patagonians  to  become  “Catolicos.”  Against  this  com- 
bined hostility  of  natives  and  white  men  no  Protestant 
mission  could  have  made  headway. 

When  the  two  missionaries  who  had  set  out  with 
such  high  hopes  returned  home  again  to  report  com- 
plete failure  the  members  of  the  Society  were  naturally 
discouraged.  Not  so  Captain  Gardiner.  He  was  a 
quick,  impatient  man,  so  intensely  active  that  when  the 
way  seemed  closed  in  one  direction  he  would  hurry 
off  on  some  other  enterprise  without  delay,  that  he 
might  not  waste  time  where  so  much  had  to  be  done. 
“Whatever  course  you  may  determine  upon,”  he  said, 
“I  have  made  up  my  own  mind  to  go  back  again  to 
South  America,  and  leave  no  stone  unturned,  no  effort 


ALLEN  GARDINER 


ii3 

untried  to  establish  a Protestant  mission  among  the 
aboriginal  tribes.  They  have  a right  to  be  instructed 
in  the  gospel  of  Christ.”  Paying  his  own  expenses  and 
those  of  a young  assistant,  he  sailed  back  to  America, 
and  there  selected  another  desolate,  neglected  territory 
for  his  investigations,  the  interior  of  Bolivia.  “There 
is  not  a single  mission  in  the  Chaco,  and  the  whole 
country  is  before  us,”  he  wrote  home. 

One  after  another  he  visited  eleven  Indian  villages. 
Each  chief  received  him  cordially,  and  to  each  he  made 
his  request  to  be  permitted  to  live  among  them.  He 
explained  that  he  was  no  Spaniard,  but  belonged  to 
a friendly  nation ; he  promised  never  to  take  their  land, 
but  to  support  himself,  pay  for  everything  he  wanted 
and  bring  presents  for  the  chiefs.  Eleven  times  he 
was  refused  on  one  pretext  or  another.  By  the  time 
the  two  travelers  reached  the  frontier  again,  they  were 
too  ill  with  fever  to  explore  any  further.  “We  have 
traveled  1,061  miles,”  wrote  Gardiner,  “on  the  worst 
roads  perhaps  in  the  world.  We  cannot  fly  about  here 
as  in  Chile.”  After  repeated  efforts,  permission  was 
secured  from  the  government  to  establish  a mission  on 
condition  that  no  proselytizing  be  done  and  that  the 
work  be  carried  on  among  Indians  only.  With  the 
way  thus  opened  Gardiner  went  to  England  to  urge 
that  a missionary  be  sent  at  once.  Just  at  the  time, 
however,  when  two  Spanish  Protestants  were  about  to 
open  the  Mission  under  the  auspices  of  the  Society, 
revolution  broke  out  in  Bolivia  and  with  a change  in 
government  the  attempt  had  to  be  abandoned. 


1 14  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


It  had  been  a long,  disheartening  series  of  failures 
for  Gardiner,  but  with  tireless  energy  he  went  ahead 
with  new  plans.  The  cautious  committee  of  the  Pata- 
gonian Missionary  Society  failed  to  dampen  his  enthu- 
siasm, and  he  toured  through  England  and  Scotland 
lecturing  on  the  need  of  a mission  among  the 
Fuegians.  Often  it  was  difficult  to  collect  an  audience. 
The  aborigines  of  South  America  were  too  re- 
mote to  arouse  popular  sympathy.  On  one  occa- 
sion when  a lecture  had  been  widely  advertised, 
Gardiner  arrived  at  the  hall,  hung  up  his  maps,  and 
waited.  Not  a soul  appeared.  On  the  street,  as 
he  walked  away  afterward  with  the  maps  under  his 
arm,  he  met  a friend  who  inquired  if  it  had  been  a 
good  meeting. 

“Not  very  good,  but  better  than  sometimes.” 

“How  many  were  there?” 

“Not  one,”  said  Gardiner,  “but  no  meeting  is  better 
than  a bad  one.” 

Though  his  personal  magnetism  won  him  many 
warm  friends  on  this  trip,  the  funds  contributed  were 
not  sufficient  to  provide  for  the  expedition  he  had 
planned.  He  proposed,  however,  to  use  the  money  as 
far  as  it  w’ould  go.  With  four  sailors,  one  ship’s 
carpenter,  one  decked  boat,  a dingey,  a whaleboat,  two 
wigwam  huts,  and  supplies  for  six  months,  he  sailed, 
in  1848,  for  the  Strait  of  Magellan  on  board  the 
Clymene  bound  for  Valparaiso.  The  little  outfit 
proved  pitifully  inadequate;  the  boat  should  have  been 
twice  as  substantial  to  withstand  the  squalls  of  that 


ALLEN  GARDINER 


”5 

region,  and  on  the  first  exploring  trip  was  almost 
swamped. 

Gardiner  erected  his  huts  on  Picton  Island.  Imme- 
diately the  Fuegians  gathered  to  watch  this  remarkable 
performance,  and  play  mischievous  pranks  on  the  white 
men.  One  seized  a large  inkstand  and  with  malicious 
glee  poured  its  contents  over  the  memorandum  Cap- 
tain Gardiner  was  writing.  They  showed  alarming 
partiality  for  anything  they  could  carry  away  with 
them,  even  the  ship’s  biscuits  which  had  been  hidden 
in  a kettle,  and  articles  disappeared  so  rapidly  and 
mysteriously  that  the  exploring  party  had  to  return  to 
the  boat  to  save  their  property.  “A  mission  vessel 
moored  in  the  stream  must  be  substituted  for  a mis- 
sion house  erected  on  the  shore,”  decided  Gardiner 
after  this  experience.  It  meant  returning  to  England, 
raising  more  money,  and  trying  to  convince  the  Society 
that  more  thorough  equipment  was  essential. 

The  committee  appointed  to  consider  his  proposi- 
tion decided  that  they  could  give  him  nothing  but 
their  permission  to  go  ahead,  providing  he  could  find 
the  money.  An  interested  woman  gave  him  £700;  he 
himself  added  £300.  With  his  nautical  experience  he 
realized  all  too  well  that  the  little  party  which  finally 
sailed  for  Tierra  del  Fuego  a second  time  was  poorly 
prepared  and  he  warned  his  companions  of  all  the 
dangers  they  must  expect.  The  alternative  was 
abandoning  the  expedition  indefinitely.  In  1850,  a 
steamer  bound  for  San  Francisco  gave  them  passage: 
Richard  Williams,  surgeon;  John  Maidement,  a cate- 


Ii6  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


chist;  Joseph  Erwin,  the  ship’s  carpenter;  three  Cornish 
fishermen,  and  Captain  Gardiner.  Supplies  for  six 
months  were  provided,  arrangements  completed  for 
the  delivery  of  more  provisions  later,  and  the  two 
launches,  Pioneer  and  Speedwell,  built  for  use  among 
the  islands,  “were  the  admiration  of  all  nautical  men 
who  saw  them.”  They  were,  however,  better  suited 
for  use  on  the  Thames  River  than  on  the  tempestuous 
Strait  of  Magellan. 

By  the  end  of  one  month  the  Pioneer  was  wrecked. 
The  hostility  and  thievishness  of  the  natives  wherever 
the  party  landed  drove  them  to  take  refuge  in  a retired 
bay,  called  Spaniard  Harbor,  while  they  waited  for 
the  relief  party.  Their  launch  seemed  like  a toy  on 
a big  ocean,  and  Dr.  Williams,  in  his  journal,  wrote 
emphatically:  “We  are  all  agreed  that  nothing  short 
of  a vessel,  a brigantine,  or  a schooner  of  80  or  ioo 
tons  burden  can  answer  our  ends,  and  to  procure  this 
ultimately  the  captain  has  fully  determined  to  use 
every  effort.  Our  plan  of  action  now  is  to  rough  all 
the  circumstances  which  it  may  please  God  to  permit 
to  happen  to  us,  until  the  arrival  of  a vessel;  to  take 
with  us  some  Fuegians,  and  go  to  the  Falkland  Islands, 
there  learn  the  language,  having  acquired  it,  and  got 
the  necessary  vessel,  to  come  out  again  and  go  amongst 
them.” 

At  Picton  Island  where  they  had  arranged  for  the 
relief  ship  to  land,  they  buried  bottles  containing  direc- 
tions : “We  are  gone  to  Spaniard  Harbor,  which  is  on 
the  main  island.  We  have  sickness  on  board;  our 


ALLEN  GARDINER 


ii  7 


supplies  are  nearly  out  and  if  not  soon  relieved  we 
shall  be  starved.”  White  stakes  with  black  crosses 
showed  where  the  bottles  were  buried,  and  on  the  rocks 
Captain  Gardiner  painted  “Gone  to  Spaniard  Har- 
bor.” 

But  the  weeks  passed  by  and  no  vessel  came.  It  was 
difficult  to  catch  fish,  the  supply  of  powder  gave  out, 
and  on  a steady  diet  of  pork  and  biscuit,  most  of  the 
men  became  seriously  ill.  “All  hands  are  now  sadly 
affected,”  wrote  Dr.  Williams  in  June.  “Captain 
Gardiner,  a miracle  of  constitutional  vigor,  has  suf- 
fered the  least,  and  if  I listened  to  his  own  words  he  is 
still  none  the  worse  but  his  countenance  bespeaks  the 
contrary.”  For  days  they  lived  on  a fox  which  “had 
frequently  paid  them  visits  during  the  night  . . . 

making  free  with  whatever  came  to  hand,  pieces  of 
pork,  shoes,  and  even  books.  To  the  great  mortifica- 
tion of  Mr.  Maidement  his  Bible  was  amongst  the 
latter  which  being  very  handsomely  bound  in  mor- 
roco  was  doubtless  a booty  to  the  hungry  animal !” 
In  July  Gardiner  wrote:  “We  have  now  remaining 
half  a duck,  about  one  pound  of  salt  pork,  the  same 
quantity  of  damaged  tea,  a pint  of  rice,  two  cakes  of 
chocolate,  four  pints  of  peas,  to  which  I may  add  six 
mice,  the  latter  are  very  tender  and  taste  like  rabbit.” 
Even  seeds  were  made  into  broth,  and  rockweed  boiled 
down  into  jelly. 

Gardiner,  Maidement  and  one  of  the  fishermen 
lived  in  the  wrecked  Pioneer,  drawn  up  on  the  beach 
and  covered  with  a tent,  while  the  other  men  remained 


1 18  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


in  the  Speedwell,  anchored  at  the  mouth  of  a little 
river  a mile  and  a half  distant,  out  of  the  reach  of 
storms.  As  they  grew  weaker  it  became  difficult  to 
make  the  trip  back  and  forth  between  the  boats. 
Toward  the  end  of  August  Gardiner  wrote : “One  and 
another  of  our  little  missionary  band  is  gathered  by 
the  Good  Shepherd  to  a better  inheritance,  and  to  a 
higher  and  more  glorious  appointment.  Our  lives  are 
in  his  hands,  and  he  can  raise  up  others,  far  better 
qualified  than  we  are,  to  enter  into  our  labors.”  Not 
a word  of  complaint,  alarm  or  impatience  appears  in 
the  journal  which  Gardiner  kept  almost  to  the  last 
hour. 

On  August  30,  the  entry  is : “Wishing  to  spare  Mr. 
Maidement  the  trouble  of  attending  upon  me.  . . . 
I purposed  to  go  to  the  river,  and  take  up  my  quarters 
in  the  boat.  Feeling  that  without  crutches  I could  not 
possibly  effect  it,  Mr.  Maidement  most  kindly  cut  me 
a pair  (two  forked  sticks)  but  it  was  no  slight  exer- 
tion in  his  weak  state.  We  set  out  together,  but  I 
soon  found  that  I had  not  strength  to  proceed,  so  I 
was  obliged  to  return.”  Alone  in  his  boat  dormitory 
Gardiner  wrote  farewell  letters  to  his  family.  To  his 
wife  he  said:  “If  I have  a wish  for  the  good  of  my 
fellowmen,  it  is  that  the  Tierra  del  Fuego  mission  may 
be  carried  on  with  vigor.”  During  those  last  few 
days  he  worked  feverishly  on  the  “Outline  of  a plan 
for  conducting  the  future  operations  of  the  mission,” 
and  an  “Appeal  to  British  Christians  in  behalf  of 
South  America,”  anxious  lest  he  might  grow  too  weak 


ALLEN  GARDINER 


1 19 

to  finish  them.  One  day  in  the  early  part  of  September 
Maidement  retired  to  a cavern  which  had  been  used 
for  sleeping  quarters  when  the  tide  was  not  too  high. 
He  never  returned.  Gardiner,  the  last  survivor  of  the 
seven,  still  kept  his  journal.  “He  left  a little  pepper- 
mint water  which  he  had  mixed,  and  it  has  been  a 
great  comfort  to  me,”  reads  the  entry,  “for  there  was 
no  other  to  drink.  Fearing  that  I might  suffer  from 
thirst,  I prayed  that  the  Lord  would  strengthen  me  to 
procure  some  water.  He  graciously  answered  my  peti- 
tion, and  yesterday  I was  enabled  to  get  out,  and  scoop 
up  a sufficient  supply  from  some  that  trickled  down  at 
the  stern  of  the  boat  by  means  of  one  of  my  incfia 
rubber  overshoes.”  The  next  day  the  journal  ended. 

Afterward  on  the  shore  was  found  a penciled  note, 
torn  and  discolored  and  partly  illegible  : 

Yet  a little  while,  and  though  . . . the  Almighty  to  sing  the 
praises  . . . throne.  I neither  hunger  nor  thirst,  though  five  days 
without  food  . . . Maidement’s  kindness  to  me  . . . heaven. 
September  6,  1851. 

Twenty  days  later  the  relief  ship  arrived.  Three 
others  were  then  on  the  way,  sent  by  anxious  friends. 
The  captain  wrote  in  his  report:  “Captain  Gardiner’s 
body  was  lying  beside  the  boat,  which  apparently  he 
had  left,  and  being  too  weak  to  climb  into  it  again  had 
died  by  the  side  of  it.”  After  reading  the  journal,  he 
added : “As  a brother  officer,  I beg  to  record  my 
admiration  of  his  conduct  in  the  moment  of  peril  and 
danger;  and  his  energy  and  resources  entitle  him  to 
high  professional  credit.  At  one  time  I find  him  sur- 


120  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


rounded  by  hostile  natives,  and  dreading  an  attack, 
yet  forbearing  to  fire,  and  the  savages  awed  and  sub- 
dued by  the  solemnity  of  his  party  kneeling  down  in 
prayer.  At  another,  having  failed  to  heave  off  his 
boat  when  on  the  rocks,  he  digs  a channel  under  her, 
and  diverts  a freshwater  stream  into  it ; and  I find  him 
making  an  anchor  by  filling  an  old  bread  cask  with 
stones,  heading  it  up,  and  securing  wooden  crosses 
over  the  heads  with  chains.” 

To  the  secretary  of  the  Mission  Society  in  London, 
Captain  Moreshead  wrote  a sympathetic  letter,  valu- 
able because  it  gave  the  opinion  of  a hardheaded,  prac- 
tical man : “I  trust  neither  yourself  nor  the  Society  will 
be  discouraged  from  following  up  to  the  utmost  the 
cause  in  which  you  have  embarked;  and  ultimate  suc- 
cess is  as  certain  as  the  present  degraded  state  of  the 
natives  is  evident.  Their  state  is  a perfect  disgrace 
to  the  age  we  live  in,  within  a few  hundred  miles  of 
an  English  colony.” 

Far  from  discouraging  further  missionary  activities, 
the  story  of  Allen  Gardiner,  published  far  and  wide, 
and  discussed  all  over  England,  gave  great  impetus  to 
a lagging  cause.  “They  buried  themselves  on  the 
desert  shore,”  it  was  said  in  a current  magazine  article, 
“but  all  the  people  of  England  attend  their  funeral.” 
Those  who  had  been  faintly  interested  began  to  do 
something;  those  who  had  been  utterly  indifferent 
began  to  think.  The  public  conscience  felt  an  unac- 
customed prick.  The  Society  which  Gardiner  had 
founded,  now  on  a sound  and  permanent  basis,  and 


ALLEN  GARDINER 


121 


profiting  by  his  experiences,  energetically  arranged  to 
establish  a mission  on  the  Falkland  Islands.  It  was 
resolved  “from  thence  to  hold  a cautious  intercourse 
with  the  Fuegians  by  means  of  a schooner  named  the 
Allen  Gardiner”  The  plans  were  submitted  to  experts 
who  recommended  that  “the  vessel  be  well  armed,  of 
from  ioo  to  150  tons,  rigged  American  fashion  fore- 
and-aft  sails,  no  square  ones.”  Such  was  the  ship 
launched  in  1854,  and  one  of  the  first  volunteers  to 
join  the  mission  party  was  Gardiner’s  only  son,  Allen. 
On  Starvation  Beach,  Spaniard  Harbor,  is  a tablet 
bearing  seven  names.  The  inscription  reads  in  part: 

“THIS  TABLET  WAS  ERECTED  BY  THE 
CAPTAIN  AND  CREW  OF  A VESSEL  BUILT 
ACCORDING  TO  THE  WISHES  OF  THE  ABOVE- 
MENTIONED  CAPTAIN  GARDINER,  AND 
NAMED  AFTER  HIM  . . . THE  WHOLE  UNDER 
THE  DIRECTION  OF  THE  PATAGONIAN  OR 
SOUTH  AMERICAN  MISSIONARY  SOCIETY,  TO 
WHOM  THE  VESSEL  BELONGS,  AND  OF 
WHICH  SOCIETY  CAPTAIN  GARDINER  WAS 
THE  FOUNDER.” 

The  names  of  Allen  Gardiner,  his  son  and  his  grand- 
son have  all  been  closely  associated  with  Araucania. 
At  the  time  of  the  Society’s  jubilee  in  1894,  a special 
fund  for  increasing  the  work  among  these  Indians 
was  raised,  and  a new  and  larger  mission  established 
in  memory  of  Captain  Gardiner.  The  superintendent 
of  the  mission  wrote : “Wonderful  is  the  thought  that 
our  brave  founder  tried  so  hard  and  failed  to  gain 
a footing  in  this  country  about  fifty  years  ago,  whilst 


122  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


to-day  it  is  our  happy  privilege  to  preach  the  gospel 
of  peace  and  good-will  towards  men  in  camp,  village 
and  town  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  Arau- 
cania.” 

In  one  of  the  finest  of  the  histories  of  the  Argentine 
Republic  there  is  this  little  paragraph : “The  South 
American  Society  has  done  noble  work  in  supplying 
buildings  and  chaplains,  and  the  courage  and  enter- 
prise of  the  hardy  colonists  is  a striking  episode  in 
the  history  of  colonization.”  Through  those  who  came 
after  him  Allen  Gardiner  finds  his  place  in  the  history 
of  the  continent. 


JUAN  MANUEL  ROSAS 


JUAN  MANUEL  ROSAS 


JUAN  MANUEL  ROSAS 


While  the  South  American  Republics  were  still  in 
the  making,  about  one  hundred  years  ago,  Juan  Manuel 
Rosas,  not  yet  eighteen  years  old,  managed  his  father’s 
great  stock  farm  on  the  southern  plains  of  Argentina. 
He  was  a handsome  young  giant,  of  an  unusual  Creole 
type,  fair  enough  to  look  like  an  Englishman,  and  so 
strong,  daring  and  reckless  that  he  became  the  popular 
idol  of  the  whole  countryside. 

The  people  among  whom  Rosas  lived,  whose  in- 
terests he  made  his  own,  belonged  to  one  of  the  most 
romantic  races  in  the  world,  the  half-savage  Gauchos 
or  herdsmen  of  the  Argentine  pampas,  descendants 
of  European  colonists  and  native  Indians.  The 
homes  of  the  Gauchos  were  the  backs  of  their  own 
cow-ponies,  they  galloped  over  the  country  as  they 
pleased,  and  clung  as  fiercely  to  personal  liberty  as  to 
life  itself.  Once  a week  they  rounded  up  their  herds 
just  to  keep  track  of  them.  The  rest  of  the  time 
they  spent  in  catching  wild  cattle,  and  breaking  in 
horses.  Like  the  llaneros  of  Venezuela,  who  refused 
to  fight  in  places  where  they  could  not  ride  and 
deserted  if  their  horses  were  killed,  the  Gauchos  did 
everything  on  horseback — fishing,  hunting,  carrying 
water,  even  attending  mass. 

Viscount  James  Bryce  says  of  the  Gaucho : “He  could 

125 


126  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


live  on  next  to  nothing  and  knew  no  fatigue.  Round 
him  clings  all  the  romance  of  the  pampas,  for  he  was 
taken  as  the  embodiment  of  the  primitive  virtues  of 
daring,  endurance,  and  loyalty.  Now  he,  too,  is  gone, 
as  North  American  frontiersmen  like  Daniel  Boone 
went  eighty  or  ninety  years  ago,  and  as  the  cowboy 
of  Texas  and  Wyoming  is  now  fast  going.” 

Rosas  had  been  born  in  the  city  of  Buenos  Aires, 
but  he  loved  and  belonged  to  the  rough,  wild,  free 
life  of  the  pampas  and  there  he  grew  up.  Everything 
the  Gauchos  did,  he  could  do  a little  better;  even  his 
feats  on  horseback  were  more  spectacular  than 
theirs.  He  would  mount  a horse  which  had  never 
before  been  ridden,  and  with  a gold-piece  placed  under 
each  knee,  let  the  enraged  pony  buck  under  him  until 
it  was  worn  out,  without  displacing  the  coins.  A 
favorite  performance  was  suspending  himself  by  his 
hands  from  the  cross  bar  of  a corral  filled  with  wild 
stallions;  at  the  moment  that  the  fiercest  of  these 
dashed  by  beneath  him,  he  would  drop  down  on  its 
back  and  without  saddle  or  bridle  ride  off  over  the 
plains  till  the  horse  was  tamed.  Sometimes  he  would 
“dare”  a Gaucho  to  lasso  the  hind  legs  of  his  horse 
as  he  rode  at  full  gallop,  and  as  the  horse  was  thrown 
forward,  Rosas,  ..pitched  over  its  head,  would  land 
gracefully  on  his  feet. 

Few  ever  lived  who  could  control  a band  of  Gauchos. 
Rosas  managed  them  as  easily  as  he  did  an  unbroken 
colt.  He  was  the  dominant  figure  of  the  region  where 
he  lived.  To  him,  the  young  master  of  great  estates, 


JUAN  MANUEL  ROSAS 


127 


the  Gauchos  flocked  hoping  for  employment,  and  so 
many  came  that  to  keep  them  all  busy  Rosas  had 
enormous  corn  and  wheat  fields  planted.  His  was 
the  first  large  agricultural  enterprise  in  South  America, 
and  the  cultivation  of  crops  as  an  Argentine  industry 
began  from  that  date. 

Those  were  merry  and  exciting  days  for  Rosas 
and  his  Gauchos.  “Every  festive  occasion,  every 
return  of  the  young  patron  from  a visit  to  town,”  so 
the  gossip  ran,  “was  celebrated  by  fiestas  and  dances 
lasting  two  or  three  days,  when  a dozen  or  twenty 
oxen  were  roasted  in  their  hides,  and  Rosas,  of  course, 
always  won  the  palm  in  the  dance  and  in  improvisa- 
tions on  the  guitar.”  But  there  was  plenty  of  hard 
work  and  hard  riding  done  on  the  estate.  Rosas 
demanded  absolute  obedience  from  his  laborers,  and 
every  rule  he  laid  down  for  them  he  was  scrupulous  in 
keeping  himself.  So  perfectly  disciplined  were  they 
that  they  constituted  a small,  invincible  army,  ready 
to  repel  all  attacks  from  the  dreaded  Indian  tribes 
who  roamed  over  the  pampas  seeking  plunder. 

Even  the  Indians  themselves  fell  under  the  spell 
of  the  young  leader.  One  famous  chief  gave  him 
the  title  Cacique  Blanco,  or  White  Chief,  because  he 
had  so  many  followers.  Years  later  when  Rosas  was 
governor  of  Buenos  Aires,  a large  party  of  his  old 
Indian  friends  came  up  to  the  city  to  pay  him  a visit. 
Some  of  them  caught  smallpox  while  they  were  there, 
a disease  much  dreaded  by  the  Indians,  for  whole 
tribes  had  practically  been  wiped  out  by  epidemics. 


128  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


Rosas  called  on  an  old  chief  who  had  it.  Then  he 
showed  the  little  mark  on  his  arm  to  the  other  Indians, 
who  had  deserted  their  sick  friends,  and  told  them  how 
it  had  enabled  him  to  visit  the  chief  without  danger. 
With  the  greatest  delight  and  anticipation  150  Indian 
men  and  women  begged  to  be  vaccinated,  proudly  re- 
garding the  mysterious  little  pricks  as  an  infallible 
charm  against  the  evil  demon  who  brought  them  the 
disease. 

At  the  age  of  eighteen,  because  his  parents  criti- 
cized his  management  of  the  estate,  Rosas  resigned 
the  position,  refused  to  be  dependent  on  them  any 
longer  for  money  or  assistance,  and  started  off  to 
make  his  own  way  in  the  world.  For  a time  he  worked 
in  Buenos  Aires  as  a cattle  dealer,  collecting  the  cattle 
from  various  farms  and  driving  them  to  the  city  to 
sell.  Then,  with  a partner  who  supplied  the  capital 
while  he  contributed  brains  and  experience,  he  began 
the  business  of  salting  meat  for  exportation  to  Brazil 
and  Cuba.  This  industry  up  to  that  time  had  been 
unknown.  To-day  it  is  an  important  feature  of 
Argentine  trade.  By  order  of  the  government,  which 
feared  a depletion  of  stock,  Rosas  was  soon  obliged 
to  give  up  his  enterprise.  But  he  had  now  made 
enough  money  to  buy  land  of  his  own,  and  he  became 
a cattle-farmer  down  on  the  Indian  frontier,  150  miles 
south  of  Buenos  Aires. 

Here  he  formed  another  army  of  devoted  Gauchos 
and  peasants  for  protection  against  the  Indians.  His 
own  peons,  called  Color  ados  or  the  Reds,  from  the 


JUAN  MANUEL  ROSAS 


129 


color  of  their  picturesque  uniforms,  served  as  a 
mounted  guard,  and  a band  of  friendly  Indians  were 
the  vanguard.  No  one  else  could  have  controlled, 
much  less  formed  into  an  efficient  military  machine, 
these  wild,  undisciplined  elements  of  the  plains,  yet 
without  them  Rosas  might  never  have  become  the 
great  military  leader  of  the  Republic.  When  a bitter 
political  war  broke  out  in  Buenos  Aires,  he  rushed 
into  the  fray  at  the  head  of  his  Gaucho  army  and 
took  the  city  by  storm.  The  administration  called  him 
the  “Liberator  of  the  Capital,”  and  he  became  the 
acknowledged  commander-in-chief  of  all  the  fighting 
men  of  southern  Buenos  Aires.  On  returning  to  his 
farm  he  added  to  his  popularity  among  the  country 
people  by  starting  a subscription  of  cattle  to  make 
good  the  losses  incurred  during  the  outbreak. 

Then  for  several  years  Rosas  remained  quietly  in 
his  own  district,  organizing  his  independent  army 
which  the  loyal  Gauchos  joined  in  preference  to  the 
government  troops.  One  of  his  men  who  had  been 
arrested  for  murder  gave  as  his  excuse : “He  spoke 
disrespectfully  of  General  Rosas,  and  I killed  him.” 
So  successful  was  Rosas  in  all  dealings  with  the  Indians 
that  the  government  commissioned  him  to  fix  a new 
southern  boundary  line  between  Argentina  and  the 
Indian  territories.  Under  his  influence  many  wander- 
ing tribes  which  had  been  a menace  to  life  and  prop- 
erty were  induced  to  settle  peaceably  on  farms. 

In  1829  another  conspiracy  threatened  the  capital. 
General  Lavelle  of  the  Argentine  army,  returning  from 


130  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


a successful  campaign  against  Uruguay,  proposed 
to  make  himself  governor  of  the  province.  Rosas 
with  his  country  militia  completely  spoiled  the  gen- 
eral’s plans  and  forced  him  to  come  to  terms.  There 
was  now  no  further  question  of  Rosas’  growing  in- 
fluence. He  had  become  a power  to  be  reckoned  with 
in  the  affairs  of  the  Republic. 

Rosas  and  General  Lavelle  were  always  deadly 
political  enemies,  but  it  is  reported  that  one  night  the 
general  rode  out  all  alone  to  the  enemy’s  camp  to  talk 
things  over.  Rosas  was  not  there,  so  he  sat  down  to 
wait.  “He  was  tired  after  his  long  midnight  ride;  for 
many  nights,  too,  he  had  slept  on  the  ground,  and  the 
sight  of  a comfortable  bed  was  an  irresistible  tempta- 
tion; when  Rosas  returned  to  his  quarters  he  found 
his  own  bed  occupied  by  the  commander  of  the  hostile 
army  fast  asleep.  Lavelle  on  awakening  accepted  his 
enemy’s  courteous  invitation  to  remain  tucked  up  be- 
tween the  blankets,  and  in  that  comfortable  attitude 
he  arranged  terms  of  peace  with  Rosas.” 

It  took  the  South  American  Republics  a long  time 
to  learn  how  to  govern  themselves.  The  policy  of 
Spain  to  exclude  Creoles  from  sharing  in  the  business 
of  government  had  left  them  unprepared.  The  rising 
generation  hardly  knew  what  it  meant  not  to  live  in 
the  midst  of  revolutions.  There  had  been  the  great 
war  with  Spain;  wars  between  the  republics;  wars 
between  the  provinces  within  a republic ; wars  between 
political  parties;  and  wars  between  ambitious  leaders 
of  the  same  party  who  tried  to  oust  each  other.  In 


JUAN  MANUEL  ROSAS  13 1 

Argentina  there  had  been  thirty-six  changes  of  gov- 
ernment between  1810,  the  date  of  her  Declaration  of 
Independence,  and  1835,  when  Rosas  became  dictator. 
The  strongest  and  most  cruel  tyrant  kept  in  power 
longest.  Lawlessness,  bloodshed,  and  murder  were 
commonplaces.  It  was  considered  an  extraordinary 
piece  of  mercy  when  on  one  occasion  a victorious 
general  ordered  only  one  out  of  every  five  of  his 
prisoners  to  be  shot. 

Rosas  grew  up  in  the  midst  of  revolutions  and  when 
he  came  into  power  he  used  the  only  weapons  then  in 
vogue:  force,  cruelty,  contempt  of  human  life.  By 
trampling  ruthlessly  on  every  opposing  element,  he 
controlled  the  high-spirited,  rebellious  republic  for 
seventeen  years,  and  from  a half  dozen  quarreling 
provinces  he  whipped  it  into  a solid  nation  at  a time 
when  union  of  any  kind  had  seemed  an  impossible 
dream. 

As  a reward  for  his  services  in  defending  the  capital 
against  Lavelle,  Rosas  was  elected  governor  of  the 
province  for  a three-year  term.  He  put  an  end  to 
civil  war  by  ordering  all  who  rebelled  against  his  ad- 
ministration to  be  shot  without  trial.  Thus  he  organ- 
ized the  first  substantial  government  the  Argentine  Re- 
public had  ever  known.  The  legislature  loaded  him 
with  honors  and  gave  him  the  title  of  “Restorer  of 
the  Laws.”  When  his  term  of  office  expired  he 
declined  reelection,  because  the  legislature  refused  to 
give  him  all  the  power  he  wanted. 

The  next  year  Rosas  headed  a great  expedition 


1 32  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


against  the  wild  Indians  of  the  southern  pampas  who 
had  become  so  bold  and  outrageous  in  their  attacks  on 
the  country  people  that  no  one  felt  safe  over  night. 
They  were  completely  subdued.  Twenty  thousand  are 
said  to  have  been  destroyed,  and  seventeen  hundred 
captive  white  women  and  children  liberated.  Rosas 
became  more  popular  than  ever — “Hero  of  the  Desert” 
he  was  called. 

Meanwhile  the  people  of  Buenos  Aires  had  been 
finding  out  to  their  sorrow  that  no  one  but  Rosas 
could  cope  with  the  political  situation.  Five  times 
they  urged  him  to  accept  the  presidency  of  the  Re- 
public under  a national  constitution.  Before  doing  so 
Rosas  wisely  demanded  for  himself  what  other  dicta- 
tors had  usurped — an  absolute  authority,  which  he 
urged  as  necessary  for  the  safety  of  the  State.  Into 
his  hands  the  people  of  this  so-called  Republic  put 
“the  sum  of  the  public  power,”  and  having  done  so 
immediately  began  to  hate  him  and  plot  against  him, 
as  seems  to  have  been  the  custom  in  those  days.  His 
word  was  law.  If  he  wanted  a man  murdered  his 
orders  made  the  murder  a legal  act. 

He  used  his  vast  powers  to  put  the  various  depart- 
ments of  state  on  a sound  basis,  and  to  get  rid  of 
all  his  enemies  or  rivals.  He  organized  a police  and 
spy  system  which  ferreted  out  crimes  and  plots  in  the 
remotest  corners.  No  criminal  could  escape.  He  put 
an  end  to  the  mishandling  of  public  funds  by  requiring 
every  official  to  give  an  accurate  account  of  all  sums 
received  or  paid  out.  During  his  presidency  not  one 


JUAN  MANUEL  ROSAS 


133 


cent  was  embezzled  or  lost  from  the  treasury;  the 
employees  of  the  government  were  paid  like  clock- 
work; foreign  debts  were  reduced  by  a fixed  amount 
each  year;  and  the  taxes  were  lighter  than  ever  before. 
He  encouraged  the  immigration  of  peasants  who  were 
used  to  tilling  the  soil,  as  an  example  to  his  own  people, 
and  agriculture  prospered  so  that  the  country  was 
able  to  supply  its  own  grain.  The  cattle  industry 
flourished,  for  the  herds  were  protected  from  cattle 
thieves  and  Indians,  and  each  owner’s  brand  respected 
as  never  before. 

Rosas  worked  as  hard  as  any  of  his  officials  to  put 
the  public  affairs  in  good  order.  He  personally  super- 
intended every  department  of  the  administration, 
working  day  and  night  without  fixed  hours  for  sleep. 
He  seldom  appeared  in  public,  and  gave  interviews 
while  he  walked  in  his  garden.  His  daughter, 
Manuelita,  was  the  only  person  in  whom  he  ever 
confided.  She  is  said  to  have  been  a second  edition 
of  her  father.  He  had  brought  her  up  like  a boy, 
and  she  knew  so  much  about  national  affairs  that  he 
often  asked  her  advice  on  important  matters.  With 
her  beauty  and  assumed  naivete,  she  made  an  excellent 
spy  on  occasion,  leading  on  her  poor  admirers  to  reveal 
political  secrets  which  it  would  help  her  father  to 
know. 

There  had  gradually  emerged  from  the  tangled 
Argentine  politics  two  distinct  parties,  the  Unitarians 
and  the  Federalists.  The  province  of  Buenos  Aires  had 
always  aspired  to  being  a powerful  central  government, 


i34  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 

as  Paris  in  the  French  Republic,  controlling  the  other 
provinces.  The  outlying  provinces  on  the  other  hand 
were  jealous  of  her  power  and  wanted  a union  of 
states  all  having  equal  liberty  and  privileges,  like  the 
United  States.  Rosas  and  the  Gauchos  naturally  be- 
longed to  the  latter  party,  the  Federalists.  But  during 
his  dictatorship,  party  lines  became  decidedly  vague, 
for  he  at  once  began  to  group  under  the  head  of 
Unitarios  all  who  opposed  him,  no  matter  what 
their  party  preferences.  Federalists  came  to  mean 
Rosas’  friends,  Unitarians  his  enemies. 

As  the  Rosista  reign  of  terror  began  it  became  an 
act  of  treason  for  man  or  woman  to  appear  in  public 
without  a rosette  of  scarlet,  the  Federalist  color.  Even 
horses  and  carriages,  houses  and  shops  flew  the  red 
flag  and  bore  mottoes  with  Rosas’  slogan : “Long  live 
the  Federals!  Death  to  the  savage  Unitarians!”  To 
be  seen  on  the  street  without  some  such  mark  of  loyalty 
meant  suspicion,  and  suspicion  usually  meant  sudden 
and  violent  death.  When  two  harmless  ships  arrived 
in  port  one  day  from  Portland,  Maine,  loaded  with 
brooms,  buckets,  and  washtubs,  the  Americans  found 
that  their  wares  could  not  be  sold  at  any  price  because 
they  were  painted  green  or  blue,  the  Unitarian  colors ! 
A yacht  on  one  of  these  ships,  ordered  by  Commander 
Brown  of  the  Argentine  navy,  could  not  be  received 
because  green  and  white  were  its  colors.  The  shrewd 
Yankee  sailors,  glad  to  be  obliging,  sandpapered  off 
the  green  paint  and  laid  on  two  coats  of  bright  Ver- 
million. On  the  stern,  in  neat  gold  letters,  they  painted 


JUAN  MANUEL  ROSAS 


135 


the  Rosista  motto,  and  then  a crew  wearing  scarlet 
and  white  costumes  delivered  the  boat.  The  next  day 
the  rigging  of  the  American  ships  displayed  long  red 
lines  of  freshly  painted  brooms  and  buckets  hung  up 
to  dry.  They  were  afterward  sold  at  very  fancy 
prices. 

In  the  first  part  of  his  “reign”  Rosas’  position  was 
often  desperate.  He  was  fiercely  jealous  of  foreign 
interference  and  his  high-handed  measures  led  him 
into  trouble  with  both  France  and  England.  For  two 
years  the  French  navy  blockaded  Buenos  Aires,  but 
no  nation  on  earth  was  big  enough  to  tell  Rosas  what 
he  ought  to  do.  When  the  French  admiral  threatened 
to  bombard  Buenos  Aires,  Rosas  replied:  “For  every 
ball  that  falls  in  the  town,  I will  hang  a French  resi- 
dent.” His  stubborn  insistence  on  Argentine  rights 
>von  great  praise  from  San  Martin  and  it  was  to  Rosas 
that  he  willed  his  sword. 

It  is  said  that  the  Dictator  loved  to  torment  and 
flout  foreign  naval  officers  and  ambassadors.  Some- 
times he  would  keep  them  waiting  months  before  re- 
ceiving them  at  all.  One  day  when  two  dignified 
Spanish  officers  paid  him  an  official  visit  in  the  cus- 
tomary full-dress  uniform  he  greeted  them  in  his  shirt 
sleeves.  Another  time  he  boasted  that  he  intended  to 
have  the  maize  for  his  breakfast  porridge  pounded  by 
the  English  ambassador.  When  the  minister  was  seen 
approaching  the  palace  Rosas  sent  his  daughter  to 
stand  in  the  entrance-hall  and  pound  the  maize  in  a 
mortar.  The  visitor  politely  took  the  pestle  to  help 


1 36  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


her.  Rosas  and  his  retinue  then  appeared  upon  the 
scene.  Once  when  he  was  requested  to  reply  to  an 
ultimatum  in  forty-eight  hours,  he  waited  twenty-five 
days  before  condescending  to  notice  it  at  all. 

Montevideo  in  Uruguay,  on  the  opposite  shores  of 
the  Plata  River,  was  the  refuge  for  anti-Rosistas, 
and  from  there  they  stirred  up  trouble.  One  of  them 
published  an  article  called : “It  is  a Meritorious  Action 
to  Kill  Rosas.”  Another  sent  a parcel  containing  a 
bomb  to  the  Dictator,  purporting  to  be  a valuable 
collection  of  historic  medals.  It  lay  in  his  library  for 
two  days  till  Manuelita  and  one  of  her  girl  friends 
happened  to  open  it.  The  machinery  was  imperfect 
and  it  never  exploded. 

Opposition  to  Rosas  was  in  the  air,  and  it  culminated 
in  a huge  conspiracy.  Some  of  the  plotters  were 
among  the  most  prominent  citizens  of  Buenos  Aires. 
But  no  one  could  catch  Rosas  unawares.  He  was 
more  than  a match  for  the  Unitarians  who  had  kept 
the  country  humming  with  civil  war  for  years.  By 
hospitality  and  friendliness  he  liked  to  lead  his*enemies 
on  to  thinking  they  had  pulled  the  wool  over  his  eyes. 
Through  his  spies  he  would  keep  watch  of  all  their 
little  tricks  and  then  turn  the  tables  on  them  just  in 
time  to  save  himself.  On  the  evening  before  he  knew 
the  outbreak  would  occur,  he  invited  his  friends  and 
his  enemies  to  a wonderful  fete  in  the  palace  gardens. 
Among  the  guests  were  all  those  in  the  conspiracy  to 
execute  Rosas  next  day  and  confiscate  his  estates. 
Within  two  hours  after  the  last  guest  had  departed 


JUAN  MANUEL  ROSAS 


137 


that  night  every  one  of  the  conspirators  was  quietly 
arrested,  brought  back  to  the  palace  grounds  and  shot. 
People  heard  the  steady  firing  of  the  guns,  but  sup- 
posed it  to  be  “a  parting  salute”  from  Rosas  to  his 
guests  of  the  evening — and  so  it  was. 

The  next  morning  the  citizens  were  invited  to  hear 
a public  address  by  the  Dictator.  At  nine  o’clock  he 
appeared  on  a little  balcony  of  the  palace,  attended 
only  by  Manuelita,  who  carried  a red  banner  bearing 
the  Federalist  motto.  Then  he  told  the  crowds  below 
him  what  he  had  done  to  rid  the  country  of  its  greatest 
enemies,  the  “savage  Unitarios.” 

At  about  this  time  a terrible  secret  society  called 
the  Mazorca  Club  was  formed  and  there  were  no 
more  revolutions.  Like  the  Klu  Klux  Klan  it  did  its 
deadly  work  in  the  middle  of  the  night  and  few  on 
its  black  list  ever  escaped.  Men  merely  suspected  of 
being  Unitarians  or  friends  of  Unitarians  were 
stabbed  in  their  beds.  Tiny  red  flags,  stamped  with 
the  signet  of  the  club,  which  could  not  be  duplicated 
by  non-members,  were  attached  to  the  victims.  People 
hardly  dared  whisper  to  each  other  the  news  that 
“Last  night  ten  throats  were  cut!”  Even  women  and 
children  were  murdered,  and  no  man  dared  hide  when 
the  Mazorqueros  called  at  midnight,  for  it  might  mean 
death  to  his  family  instead.  Patrols  guarded  the  coast 
all  night  to  prevent  the  escape  of  suspects.  One  man 
managed  to  get  away  by  embarking  openly  at  noon. 
Another  hid  in  a cellar  for  twelve  years,  living  on 
food  which  his  wife  smuggled  in  to  him.  On  the  day 


1 38  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


of  Rosas’  downfall  a pale,  white-bearded  figure  crept 
up  out  of  the  cellar  into  the  sunlight  like  a ghost. 

There  were  only  two  men  in  Argentina  powerful 
enough  to  be  possible  rivals  of  the  Dictator.  One  of 
these,  Quiroga,  a far  worse  tyrant  than  Rosas,  showed 
signs  oi  having  designs  of  his  own.  Rosas  despatched 
him  to  a distant  province  on  an  errand.  On  the  way 
Quiroga  and  his  attendants,  even  the  horses  drawing 
the  carriage  and  a dog  inside  of  it,  were  set  upon  and 
killed  by  unknown  ruffians.  The  other  rival,  Vincente 
Lopez,  died  shortly  afterwards,  and  it  was  reported 
that  his  physician  received  a handsome  reward  from 
the  private  purse  of  the  president. 

By  1842  Rosas,  with  the  help  of  his  favorite  general, 
Urquiza,  had  either  murdered  his  enemies,  driven  them 
to  Montevideo,  or  frightened  them  into  helplessness. 
The  power  of  the  “savage  Unitarios”  was  broken; 
people  were  in  a state  of  sullen  acquiescence.  He  had 
forced  internal  peace  upon  the  country.  Thomas 
Dawson  says  of  Rosas  during  those  dreadful  days  in 
Buenos  Aires:  “For  political  reasons  he  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  kill,  and  to  kill  cruelly,  but  he  did  not  kill  for 
the  mere  sake  of  killing.”  1 

The  first  man  who  dared,  without  having  his  throat 
cut,  to  defy  the  Dictator  was  Urquiza  himself,  once 
his  friend  and  staunch  ally.  Urquiza  had  been  ap- 
pointed governor  of  Entre  Rios,  the  most  independent 
of  all  the  provinces;  he  was  a loyal  Federalist  and 


1 South  American  Republics. 


139 


JUAN  MANUEL  ROSAS 

anxious  that  his  province  should  receive  fair  play. 
The  break  between  the  two  men  occurred  because 
Rosas,  though  professing  to  be  a Federalist,  lived  and 
ruled  like  a Unitarian.  All  the  power  of  the  Republic 
was  concentrated  in  Buenos  Aires.  From  there 
Rosas  dictated  laws  which  gave  that  city  special  privi- 
leges. He  even  forbade  other  cities  to  engage  directly 
in  commerce  with  outside  nations;  everything  had  to 
be  sent  to  Buenos  Aires  first  and  shipped  from  there 
subject  to  duty. 

In  1851  Urquiza  issued  a public  decree  which  de- 
clared Rosas  to  be  “a  despot  who  has  trodden  under 
his  feet  the  brow  of  a youthful  Republic.”  With  the 
anti-Rosistas  who  had  fled  to  Uruguay  and  some  of 
Rosas’  troops  who  had  been  besieging  Montevideo  and 
deserted,  besides  his  own  followers,  he  crossed  the 
Parana  River,  which  separates  Entre  Rios  from  the 
rest  of  Argentina.  His  army  of  24,000  men  was  the 
largest  that  had  ever  been  assembled  for  a South 
American  battle,  and  their  thousands  of  horses  swim- 
ming across  the  river  presented  an  extraordinary 
spectacle.  On  February  3,  1852,  Rosas  was  defeated. 
With  his  daughter  he  fled  to  the  British  Consulate, 
and  thence  they  boarded  ship  for  England.  It  was 
reported  that  they  escaped  to  the  ship  disguised  as 
sailors. 

Rosas  once  said  to  his  grandson  long  afterward : 
“I  want  you  to  remember  what  I am  going  to  say. 
Whenever  anything  was  done  over  there  in  my  name, 
but  which  was  not  directly  attributable  to  me,  I always 


140  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


got  the  blame  for  it;  anything  good  and  right  my 
enemies  always  put  to  the  credit  of  my  ministers.” 
Rosas  has  been  called  the  most  bitterly  hated  man  in 
Argentine  history.  Even  to  this  day  they  celebrate 
the  date  on  which  he  was  finally  driven  from  the 
country.  Monuments  have  never  been  erected  in  his 
memory,  nor  public  squares  named  after  him.  But 
his  hands  first  shaped  the  constitution  of  the  Argen- 
tine nation,  and  his  cruelty  and  tyranny  brought  about 
a reaction  in  favor  of  Republicanism.  No  one  ever 
wanted  another  Dictator. 

Urquiza,  who  became  the  next  president,  finished 
the  work  of  consolidation;  a Federal  Constitution,  out- 
lined years  before  by  Rosas,  was  adopted  and  is  in 
effect  to-day.  The  Republic  began  to  learn  her  first 
lessons  in  self-government,  and  the  stage  was  clear 
for  the  prosperity  and  industrial  development  of 
modern  Argentina. 

At  the  age  of  fifty-six  Rosas,  in  England,  again 
took  up  the  old  life  he  loved  so  much,  the  raising  of 
cattle  and  breeding  of  horses.  For  twenty-five  years 
he  lived  as  a peaceful  country  gentleman,  popular  with 
his  neighbors  and  with  his  workmen.  “No  one  would 
have  thought,”  someone  used  to  say,  “that  the  singu- 
larly handsome  old  gentleman  who  lived  quietly  and 
unobtrusively  on  a little  farm  near  Southampton  was 
the  once  famous  despot  of  Argentina.” 


DOMINGO  F.  SARMIENTO 


DOMINGO  F.  SARMIENTO 


DOMINGO  F.  SARMIENTO 


In  the  town  of  San  Juan,  near  the  foot  of  the  Andes 
in  eastern  Argentina,  lived  a fine  old  family  named 
Sarmiento  which  could  trace  its  ancestry  back  in  a 
straight  line  to  the  early  colonists.  On  the  mother’s 
side,  generation  after  generation  had  produced  men 
of  remarkable  intellectual  ability — writers,  teachers, 
historians,  bishops.  The  youngest  of  the  family, 
Domingo,  born  in  1811,  had  all  the  brilliant  talents 
which  seemed  to  be  the  inevitable  heritage  of  these 
people.  His  relatives  were  “personages,”  but  they 
were  very  companionable  ones  even  for  a small  boy, 
and  there  was  never  a dull  moment  in  the  Sarmiento 
household.  With  his  uncle,  a clergyman  who  had 
once  been  chaplain  in  San  Martin’s  army,  he  would 
spend  hours  talking  on  history,  politics,  and  good 
government,  and  learning  a variety  of  fascinating 
things  about  the  world. 

“I  never  knew  how  to  spin  a top,  to  bat  a ball,  to 
fly  a kite,  or  had  any  inclination  for  such  boyish 
sports,”  Domingo  confessed  many  years  later.  “At 
school  I learned  how  to  copy  the  knaves  from  cards, 
later  I made  a copy  of  San  Martin  on  horseback  from 
the  paper  lantern  of  a grocer,  and  I succeeded,  after 


143 


144  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


ten  years  of  perseverance,  in  divining  all  the  secrets 
of  caricatures.”  He  especially  loved  to  mold  saints 
and  soldiers  out  of  mud  and  play  with  them.  For  the 
saints  he  invented  elaborate  ceremonies  of  worship; 
the  soldiers  he  and  his  young  neighbors  arranged  in 
two  armies,  and  fierce  battles  were  carried  on  with 
wax  balls,  seeing  who  could  knock  down  the  most 
figures  with  the  fewest  shots. 

The  family  was  desperately  poor.  Domingo’s 
mother — one  of  those  great  mothers  of  great  men — - 
had  married  a man  who  had  no  money  and  never  quite 
succeeded  in  making  any.  He  worked  on  a farm  driv- 
ing mules,  and  did  various  odd  jobs  for  a living,  always 
dreaming  of  wonderful  projects  which  never  amounted 
to  anything.  It  was  the  plucky  young  mother  who 
built  their  little  home.  Before  her  marriage,  although 
it  was  an  unheard-of  thing  for  a woman  of  good 
family  to  work  for  wages,  she  had  earned  a little 
money  by  weaving.  With  this  she  hired  two  peons  to 
build  a two-room  house  on  a bit  of  land,  “thirty  yards 
by  forty,”  which  she  had  inherited.  She  put  up  her 
loom  under  a fig-tree  on  the  grass,  and  while  she  wove 
directed  the  workmen,  sometimes  even  stopping  to 
help  them.  Each  Saturday  she  sold  the  cloth  she 
made  during  the  week  and  from  the  proceeds  paid  the 
men  their  wages. 

“The  sunburned  bricks  and  mud  walls  of  that  little 
house  might  be  computed  in  yards  of  linen,”  Domingo 
once  said.  “My  mother  wove  twelve  yards  per  week, 
which  was  the  pattern  for  the  dress  of  a friar,  and 


DOMINGO  F.  SARMIENTO 


145 


received  $6  on  Saturday,  not  without  trespassing  on 
the  night” — quaintly  elaborate  Spanish  phrase! — “to 
fill  the  quills  with  thread  for  the  work  of  the  follow- 
ing day.” 

With  the  picture  of  his  mother  always  before  him 
Sarmiento  had  the  deepest  respect  for  honest  work, 
whether  it  was  done  with  the  hands  or  with  the  mind. 
He  kept  as  a precious  treasure  the  shuttle,  two  hundred 
years  old,  which  his  mother,  grandmother,  and  great- 
grandmother had  used.  No  one  appreciated  better 
than  he  the  dignity  of  manual  labor,  and  that  in  a day 
when  Creole  gentlemen  scorned  to  lift  a finger  in  any 
kind  of  industrial  work.  By  her  own  efforts  his  mother 
supported  the  little  family,  and  though  sometimes  she 
hardly  knew  where  the  next  day’s  meals  were  coming 
from,  she  never  told  of  her  poverty.  Her  wealthy 
relatives  and  her  brothers,  the  parish  curates,  never 
dreamed  how  hard  the  struggle  was. 

Each  morning  at  sunrise  the  noise  of  the  whirring 
loom  would  wake  the  family,  a signal  that  it  was 
time  to  be  up.  “Other  industrial  resources  had  their 
place  on  the  narrow  territory  of  twenty  yards  not 
occupied  by  the  family  mansion,”  Sarmiento  wrote. 
“Three  orange  trees  shed  their  fruit  in  autumn,  their 
shade  always.  Under  a corpulent  peach  tree  was  a 
little  pool  of  water  for  the  solace  of  three  or  four 
geese,  which,  multiplying,  gave  their  contribution  to 
the  complicated  and  limited  system  of  revenue  on 
which  reposed  the  existence  of  the  family;  and  since 
these  means  were  insufficient,  there  was  a garden 


i46  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


which  produced  such  vegetables  as  enter  into  South 
American  cookery,  the  whole  sparkling  and  illumi- 
nated by  groups  of  common  flowers,  a mulberry- 
colored  rose-bush  and  various  other  flowering  shrubs. 
. . . Yet  in  that  Noah’s  ark  there  was  some  little 

corner  where  were  steeped  and  prepared  the  colors 
with  which  she  dyed  her  webs,  and  a vat  of  bran, 
from  whence  issued  every  week  a fair  proportion  of 
exquisitely  white  starch.”  Candle-making,  baking, 
and  a “thousand  rural  operations”  went  on  in  the  busy 
little  household. 

“Such  was  the  domestic  hearth  near  which  I grew, 
and  it  is  impossible  that  there  should  not  be  left  on  a 
loyal  nature  indelible  impressions  of  morality,  of  in- 
dustry, and  of  virtue.” 

Domingo’s  father  was  determined  that  the  boy  and 
his  two  sisters  should  have  opportunities  which  he 
himself  had  missed,  and  he  constantly  encouraged 
them  to  read  and  study.  “He  had  an  unconquerable 
hatred  for  manual  labor,  unintellectually  and  rudely 
as  he  had  been  brought  up.  I once  heard  him  say, 
speaking  of  me,  ‘Oh,  no!  my  son  shall  never  take  a 
spade  in  his  hand !’  ” He  used  to  borrow  learned 
works — the  Critical  History  of  Spain,  in  four  volumes, 
was  one  of  these — and  insist  that  his  son  read  them 
every  word.  Long  before  school-days  Domingo  had 
learned  to  read.  His  uncle  afterward  told  him  that 
at  the  age  of  four  he  “had  the  reputation  of  being  a 
most  troublesome  and  vociferous  reader.”  The  first 
book  he  ever  owned  was  a Roman  Guide  Book  which 


DOMINGO  F.  SARMIENTO 


147 


he  used  to  pore  over  by  the  hour.  Sarmiento  always 
said  that  he  was  indebted  to  his  father  for  his  love 
of  reading. 

When  he  was  five  years  old  he  went  to  school. 
Argentina’s  declaration  of  independence  had  given  her 
colonists  a new  pride  in  themselves,  an  impetus  to  edu- 
cate their  children  who  were  going  to  be  free  citizens 
of  a free  country,  and  the  provincial  government  had 
opened  a primary  school,  the  first  of  its  kind  in  San 
Juan.  Before  that  even  the  children  of  wealthy 
parents  received  almost  no  education  except  what  they 
could  pick  up  at  home. 

“In  this  school,”  Sarmiento  says,  “I  remained  nine 
years  without  having  missed  a single  day  under  any 
pretext,  for  my  mother  was  there  to  see  that  I should 
fulfil  my  duty  of  punctuality  under  the  penalty  of  her 
indescribable  severity.  From  a child  I believed  in  my 
talents  as  a rich  man  does  in  his  money  or  a soldier 
in  his  warlike  deeds.  Every  one  said  so,  and  after 
nine  years  of  school  life,  there  were  not  a dozen  out 
of  two  thousand  children  who  were  before  me  in  their 
capacity  to  learn,  notwithstanding  that  toward  the  end 
I hated  the  school,  especially  grammar,  algebra,  and 
arithmetic.” 

After  he  had  gone  as  far  as  he  could  in  the  elemen- 
tary school  he  studied  Latin  with  his  uncle,  and  mathe- 
matics and  surveying  with  an  engineer.  At  fifteen 
he  was  teaching  a class  of  eight  pupils  twenty  years 
old  who  had  never  learned  to  read.  A year  later  he 
became  an  apprentice  in  a merchant’s  shop,  spending 


148  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


all  the  money  he  could  spare  for  books  and  all  his 
leisure  in  reading  them. 

“I  studied  the  history  of  Greece  till  I knew  it  by 
heart,  and  then  that  of  Rome,  feeling  myself  to  be 
successively  Leonidas,  Brutus,  Aristides.  . . . 

During  this  time  I was  selling  herbs  and  sugar,  and 
making  grimaces  at  those  who  came  to  draw  me  from 
my  newly-discovered  world  where  I wished  to  live.” 

He  read  every  book  he  could  lay  his  hands  on. 
Among  them  were  the  Bible,  a Life  of  Cicero,  and 
two  formidable  treatises  entitled : Natural  Theology 
and  Evidences  of  Christianity,  and  The  True  Idea  of 
the  Holy  See.  He  liked  them  all,  and  in  his  imagina- 
tion lived  over  and  over  again  the  lives  of  the  char- 
acters he  read  about.  He  loved  best  the  Life  of  Ben- 
jamin Franklin.  “No  book,”  he  said,  “has  ever  done 
me  more  good.  ...  I felt  myself  to  be  Frank- 
lin— why  not?  I was  very  poor  like  him;  I studied, 
as  he  did,  to  be  a doctor  ad  honorem!  and  to  make 
myself  a place  in  letters  and  American  politics.” 

Then  one  day  his  career  as  shopkeeper  came  to  a 
sudden  end.  “I  was  told  for  the  third  time,”  he  wrote, 
“to  close  my  shop  and  mount  guard  in  the  character 
of  ensign  of  militia  to  which  rank  I had  of  late  been 
promoted.  I was  very  much  opposed  to  that  guard, 
and  over  my  own  signature  I complained  of  the  ser- 
vice, and  used  the  expression,  ‘with  which  we  are  op- 
pressed’ !”  For  this  offense  Sarmiento  was  speedily 
summoned  to  the  presence  of  the  governor.  As  the 
boy  approached,  the  governor  neither  rose  in  greeting 


DOMINGO  F.  SARMIENTO 


149 


nor  lifted  his  hat.  “It  was  the  first  time  I had  pre- 
sented myself  before  one  in  authority.  I was  young, 
ignorant  of  life,  haughty  by  education  and  perhaps 
by  my  daily  contact  with  Caesar,  Cicero,  and  other 
favorite  personages,  and,  as  the  governor  did  not  re- 
spond to  my  respectful  salute,  before  answering  his 
question,  ‘Is  this  your  signature,  sir?’  I hurriedly 
lifted  my  hat,  intentionally  put  it  on  again,  and  an- 
swered resolutely,  ‘Yes,  sir.’  . . . ” 

After  this  bit  of  pantomime  the  two  eyed  each  other 
suspiciously,  the  governor  trying  “to  make  me  cast 
down  my  eyes  by  the  flashes  of  anger  that  gleamed 
from  his  own,  and  I with  mine  fixed  unwinkingly  to 
make  him  understand  that  his  rage  was  aimed  at  a soul 
fortified  against  all  intimidation ! I conquered,  and  in 
a transport  of  anger  he  called  an  aide-de-camp  and 
sent  me  to  prison.” 

“You  have  done  a foolish  thing,  but  it  is  done;  now 
bear  the  consequences,”  his  father  told  him. 

Various  officials  tried  to  force  him  to  tell  the  names 
of  people  he  had  heard  complain  of  the  government, 
but  he  said  to  them:  “Those  who  spoke  in  my 

presence  did  not  authorize  me  to  communicate  their 
opinions  to  the  authorities.” 

Not  long  after  his  release,  as  the  governor  was  rid- 
ing through  the  streets  with  a train  of  fifty  horsemen, 
young  Sarmiento  on  a sudden  impulse  fired  a sky- 
rocket at  the  hoofs  of  some  of  the  horses.  “We  had 
a wordy  dispute,”  he  says,  “he  on  horseback,  I on 
foot.  He  had  a train  of  fifty  horsemen,  and  I fixed 


150  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


my  eyes  upon  him  and  his  spirited  horse  to  avoid  be- 
ing trampled  upon,  when  I felt  something  touch  me 
behind  in  a disagreeable  and  significant  manner.  I 
put  my  hand  behind  me  and  touched — the  barrel  of  a 
pistol,  which  was  left  in  my  hand.  I was  at  that 
instant  the  head  of  a phalanx  which  had  gathered  in 
my  defense.  The  Federal  party  was  on  the  point  of  a 
hand-to-hand  encounter  with  the  Unitario  party, 
whom  I served  unconsciously  at  that  moment.”  The 
governor  rode  on,  worsted  for  the  second  time  by  a 
mere  boy.  His  spirited  rebellion  against  the  tyranny 
of  the  government  in  those  dreadful  days  of  revolution 
and  civil  war  was  the  cause  of  these  two  incidents,  and 
he  never  hesitated  to  attack  the  evils  which  roused  his 
indignation. 

He  definitely  allied  himself  with  the  anti-administra- 
tion party,  the  Unitarios,  and  for  the  next  month 
gave  all  his  time  to  studying  the  political  principles 
of  the  two  great  parties  of  the  republic.  “I  was 
initiated  thus  by  the  authorities  themselves  into  the 
party  questions  of  the  city,  and  it  was  not  in  Rome  or 
in  Greece  but  in  San  Juan  that  I was  to  seek  national 
liberty.” 

At  eighteen  he  left  his  shop  and  joined  some  troops 
that  were  preparing  to  march  against  the  tyrant 
Quiroga.  He  barely  escaped  being  taken  prisoner,  and 
finally  landed  in  Mendoza  with  his  father,  who  fol- 
lowed him  everywhere  “like  a tutelar  angel,”  possibly 
to  restrain  his  son’s  hotheadedness.  At  Mendoza  he 
was  appointed  a director  of  the  military  academy  be.- 


DOMINGO  F.  SARMIENTO  151 

cause  of  his  knowledge  of  cavalry  maneuvers  and 
tactics,  most  of  which  he  had  picked  up  in  the  course 
of  his  reading.  Here  he  discovered  one  day  a French 
library  which  inspired  him  with  a great  desire  to 
learn  French.  He  found  a soldier  from  France  who 
agreed  to  give  him  lessons.  By  the  end  of  six  weeks 
he  had  translated  twelve  volumes.  He  kept  his  books 
piled  on  the  dining-room  table  except  at  meal-times, 
and  it  was  usually  two  o’clock  in  the  morning  before 
he  closed  his  dictionary  and  blew  out  his  candle. 

No  Unitario’s  life  was  safe  at  this  time,  and  the 
Sarmiento  family  with  many  prominent  citizens  of  the 
province  of  San  Juan  were  obliged  to  seek  safety  in 
Chile.  In  Los  Andes  on  the  Chilean  side  of  the  moun- 
tains Sarmiento  taught  for  a time  in  a municipal 
school,  the  first  and  only  one  in  the  town.  Then  he 
walked  all  the  way  to  the  coast  to  accept  the  position 
of  a merchant’s  clerk  in  Valparaiso  at  a wage  of  about 
sixteen  dollars  a month.  More  than  half  of  this  he 
invested  in  learning  English,  part  going  to  his  pro- 
fessor, and  ten  cents  a week  to  the  watchman  on  the 
block  for  waking  him  at  two  in  the  morning  for  study. 
He  never  worked  on  Sunday,  but  he  made  up  for  this 
by  sitting  up  all  Saturday  night  with  his  books  and 
Spanish-English  dictionary.  After  six  weeks  of  les- 
sons his  teacher  told  him  that  all  he  needed  further 
was  the  pronunciation.  Not  until  he  visited  France 
and  England  years  later  did  he  have  a chance  to  learn 
to  pronounce  correctly  the  languages  he  had  acquired 
in  six  weeks. 


152  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


Intensely  alert  for  every  opportunity  of  advance- 
ment, Sarmiento  shortly  became  foreman  in  a great 
mining  plant.  With  all  the  rest  of  his  duties  he  man- 
aged to  read  in  English  one  volume  a day  of  all  the 
works  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  The  Argentine  workers 
in  the  mine,  most  of  them  exiles  like  himself,  used  to 
meet  in  a big  kitchen  after  the  day’s  work  was  over  to 
discuss  politics.  Sarmiento  was  always  on  hand  in  his 
miner’s  costume  of  “doublet  and  hose,”  with  a red 
cap  and  a sash  to  which  was  attached  his  purse,  “cap- 
able ot  holding  twenty-five  pounds  of  sugar.” 
Whether  it  had  any  money  in  it,  as  is  the  habit  of 
purses,  no  one  knows.  In  these  discussions  Sarmiento 
was  the  court  of  last  resort.  The  men  asked  him 
questions,  and  strangers  who  sometimes  dropped  in  to 
listen  were  often  surprised  at  the  remarkable  attain- 
ments of  this  young  man  who  looked  in  his  rough 
clothes  like  the  humblest  peon.  He  used  to  draw 
birds  and  animals  and  make  caricatures  to  amuse  the 
miners,  and  he  even  gave  them  French  lessons.  He 
had  a passion  for  telling  others  everything  he  knew 
himself,  and  a marvelous  gift  for  making  those  he 
taught  eager  to  learn. 

But  as  time  went  on  he  longed  to  recross  the  moun- 
tain pass  which  lay  between  himself  and  home.  Ill 
and  almost  penniless  he  arrived  in  San  Juan  to  find 
few  of  his  old  friends  left  there.  It  happened  that 
the  government  officials  needed  an  expert  to  solve  a 
complicated  mathematical  problem.  Sarmiento  was 
able  to  help  them,  and  gained  considerable  prestige  for 


DOMINGO  F.  SARMIENTO 


J53 


his  cleverness.  He  made  new  friends  among  the 
brightest  of  the  young  Liberals,  and  together  they  be- 
gan to  wake  up  the  sleepy,  apathetic,  intellectually 
barren  little  city  with  a great  variety  of  activities,  in 
which  Sarmiento  was  always  the  leading  spirit. 

Under  his  direction  a college  for  young  ladies  was 
founded.  Nothing  had  ever  been  done  before  in  the 
province  for  the  education  of  women,  and  Sarmiento 
wrote  a vigorous  article  setting  forth  the  need  of  such 
a school  as  he  proposed.  For  two  years  it  was  his 
pet  enterprise  and  through  it  he  exerted  a very  real 
influence  on  the  community.  The  energetic  little  group 
also  started  a dramatic  society,  the  first  in  the  coun- 
try, and  invented  many  public  amusements  which 
raised  the  general  tone  of  society  life. 

With  the  help  of  three  of  his  friends  Sarmiento 
published  a periodical  named  La  Zonda,  which  treated 
of  public  education,  farming,  and  other  topics  about 
which  he  thought  people  ought  to  know.  The  first 
two  numbers  contained  nothing  to  which  the  govern- 
ment could  reasonably  object,  but  it  feared  what  he 
might  say  next.  The  governor  on  some  flimsy  pretext 
fined  him  twenty-six  dollars.  When  Sarmiento  would 
not  submit  to  such  oppressive  methods  he  was  marched 
off  to  prison.  On  the  advice  of  his  friends  he  yielded 
the  point  for  the  sake  of  his  school  and  the  affair 
blew  over.  But  he  was  wholly  unsubdued. 

“My  situation  in  San  Juan  became  more  and  more 
thorny  every  day,”  he  says,  “as  the  political  situation 
became  more  and  more  charged  with  threatening 


154  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


clouds.  ...  I spoke  my  convictions  with  all  the 
sincerity  of  my  nature,  and  the  suspicions  of  the 
government  closed  around  me  on  every  side  like  a 
cloud  of  flies  buzzing  about  my  ears.”  It  was  not 
long  before  his  fearless  articles  led  to  his  rearrest, 
and  he  was  imprisoned  in  a dungeon  designed  for  the 
worst  political  offenders.  For  months  his  life  was  a 
series  of  narrow  escapes.  At  one  time  a howling  mob 
of  Federalists  in  the  streets  demanded  his  death,  and 
the  governor  would  have  ordered  his  assassination  had 
he  dared. 

Sarmiento  left  the  prison  to  go  into  exile  once 
more  in  Chile.  “On  ne  tue  pas  les  idces,”  “Ideas  have 
no  country,”  he  said,  and  went  right  on  contributing 
articles  to  the  press.  For  a time  he  edited  a political 
journal,  then  gave  it  up  to  found  a magazine  of  his 
own,  the  National.  His  vigorous  writings  on  all 
kinds  of  subjects  thoroughly  aroused  public  opinion 
and  started  violent  controversies  which  made  men 
think.  There  was  no  greater  evil  in  South  America 
than  the  indifference  of  the  mass  of  the  people  to  all 
questions  of  public  welfare  and  prosperity.  Sarmiento 
proved  a tonic  for  mental  laziness. 

When  he  heard  one  day  that  a bitter  enemy  of 
Rosas,  Colonel  Madrid,  was  in  Mendoza  preparing  to 
defy  the  government,  Sarmiento  turned  his  back  on 
his  editorial  desk  and  determined  to  return  to  his  own 
country,  and  help  to  fight  against  the  president.  Just 
as  they  had  reached  the  summit  on  their  way  across 
the  Andes,  Sarmiento  and  his  companions  spied  in 


DOMINGO  F.  SARMIENTO 


155 


the  distance  hundreds  of  black,  hurrying  specks  com- 
ing toward  them.  Madrid  and  his  men  in  retreat 
were  taking  refuge  in  the  mountains.  Their  position, 
without  food,  shelter,  or  medicine,  was  desperate. 
Sarmiento  fairly  ran  down  the  mountain  side  to  Los 
Andes,  hired  a secretary,  invited  himself  into  a friend’s 
house,  and  for  twelve  hours  worked  to  save  the  lives 
of  those  Argentine  troops.  Before  the  day  was  over 
he  had  sent  twelve  mountaineers  to  help  the  fugitives, 
bought  and  despatched  six  loads  of  food  and  bedding, 
written  to  the  Argentine  minister  in  Chile  for  govern- 
ment aid,  started  appeals  for  charity,  arranged  an 
entertainment  for  the  benefit  of  the  soldiers,  and  writ- 
ten one  of  his  stirring  articles  to  rouse  public  sym- 
pathy. People  responded  instantly  and  in  three  days 
sufficient  food  and  medicine  for  a thousand  men  had 
started  over  the  Andes. 

“My  mother  brought  me  up,”  Sarmiento  wrote, 
“with  the  persuasion  that  I should  be  a clergyman  and 
the  curate  of  San  Juan,  in  imitation  of  my  uncle; 
and  my  father  had  visions  for  me  of  military  jackets, 
gold  lace,  sabers,  and  other  accouterments  to  match.” 
But  from  the  time  when  he  was  a small  boy  in  the 
government  school  Sarmiento  had  known  what  he 
wanted  to  do  more  than  anything  else  in  the  world 
with  his  life.  Many  years  later,  on  the  occasion  of 
laying  the  corner-stone  of  the  Sarmiento  School  in 
San  Juan,  he  said  in  the  course  of  his  address:  “The 
inspiration  to  consecrate  myself  to  the  education  of  the 
people  came  to  me  here  in  my  youth.” 


156  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


The  idea  of  educating  the  common  people  in  schools 
supported  by  popular  taxes  had  never  occurred  to  the 
people  of  Chile.  In  Santiago,  now  that  his  project 
of  fighting  for  Argentina  had  come  to  an  end,  he 
organized  primary  schools  for  the  poor,  and  founded 
the  Monitor  for  Schools,  a journal  for  teachers,  in 
which  he  discussed  educational  problems.  Perhaps 
nothing  he  did  was  more  important  than  raising  the 
profession  of  teacher  to  a higher  plane.  At  that  time 
teaching  was  considered  to  be  not  only  a humble  but 
an  unworthy  occupation.  A story  is  told  of  a rob- 
ber who  had  stolen  the  silver  candelabra  from  a church 
altar.  As  punishment  he  was  condemned,  not  to  the 
penitentiary,  but  “to  serve  as  a schoolmaster  in 
Copiapo  for  the  term  of  three  years.”  To  this  de- 
spised profession  Sarmiento  gave  new  dignity  and  im- 
portance. He  founded  the  first  normal  school  in  either 
North  or  South  America  for  the  training  of  men  who 
should  make  the  profession  of  teaching  an  honorable 
one. 

One  of  his  students  during  those  years  writes  of 
him:  “Sarmiento  always  treated  us  as  friends,  in- 
spiring us  with  that  respectful  confidence  which  makes 
a superior  so  dear.  He  was  always  ready  to  favor  us 
and  help  us  in  our  misfortunes;  he  often  despoiled 
himself  of  his  own  garments  to  give  them  to  his 
pupils,  the  greater  part  of  whom  were  poor.  He  often 
invited  us  to  accompany  him  in  his  afternoon  walks,  in 
order  to  give  us  more  importance  in  the  eyes  of  others 
and  to  comfort  our  hearts  by  encouragement.  . . . 


DOMINGO  F.  SARMIENTO 


157 


He  treated  his  pupils  thus,  not  because  we  were  in- 
dividually worthy  of  the  honor,  but  to  give  importance 
to  our  profession,  then  humiliated,  calumniated,  de- 
spised. He  himself,  in  spite  of  his  learning  and  his 
influential  relatives,  was  called  by  the  disdainful 
epithets  of  clerk  and  schoolmaster,  and  was  insulted 
every  day  by  the  supercilious  Chileans !” 

After  Sarmiento  had  directed  the  normal  school  for 
three  years,  all  the  time  continuing  his  writing,  edit- 
ing, and  newspaper  work,  he  was  commissioned  by 
the  Chilean  government  to  visit  Europe  and  the 
United  States  to  study  school  systems.  During  his 
travels  he  met  distinguished  men  in  all  the  large  coun- 
tries of  the  world,  and  received  honors  wherever  he 
went.  One  interesting  result  of  his  trip  was  a con- 
versation he  had  with  San  Martin,  in  which  he  learned 
why  the  great  general  had  ended  his  career  so 
abruptly.  He  was  the  first  one  admitted  to  the  secret, 
and  it  was  through  him  that  the  Argentines  discovered 
the  truth  about  their  greatest  patriot.1  In  the  United 
States  he  became  a friend  of  Horace  Mann,  who  had 
first  introduced  the  common  school  system  of  educa- 
tion. As  soon  as  Sarmiento  reached  Chile  again,  he 
established  this  system  there. 

While  he  was  in  exile,  he  did  a large  part  of  the 
writing  which  has  distinguished  him  not  only  as  educa- 
tor and  statesman  but  as  a man  of  letters.  Aside  from 
the  numerous  periodicals  he  founded  from  time  to 


'See  page  57. 


158  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


time,  he  published  many  books,  some  of  them  political 
treatises,  some  of  them  travels,  and  one,  Recollections 
of  a Province , largely  autobiographical.  Perhaps  his 
best-known  work  is  a history  of  Argentina  in  the  days 
of  the  tyrants,  called  Civilisation  and  Barbarism,  in 
which  he  poured  out  all  the  bitter  rebellion  in  his 
heart  against  the  policy  of  the  government. 

While  Sarmiento  was  giving  so  lavishly  of  his 
genius  to  his  adopted  country,  he  stood  ready  at  a 
moment’s  notice  to  respond  to  his  own  country’s  need 
for  help.  Rosas  had  decreed  a ban  of  perpetual 
banishment  upon  him,  but  when  Sarmiento  heard  in 
1851  that  General  Urquiza  was  preparing  to  march 
against  Rosas,  he  left  Chile  at  once  to  offer  his  ser- 
vices. As  a colonel  he  fought  in  the  famous  battle 
which  drove  Rosas  from  the  country.  Then,  seated 
at  the  tyrant’s  own  desk,  and  using  his  pen,  he  wrote 
a vivid  description  of  the  battle.  Six  days  later  he 
left  the  army  because  he  realized  that  Urquiza  had 
every  intention  of  making  himself  another  such  dic- 
tator as  Rosas.  The  minute  he  decided  on  this  he 
wrote  a note  to  the  general  in  which  he  told  him  with 
his  usual  uncompromising  bluntness  that  he  had  chosen 
a thorny  path  which  could  lead  only  to  disaster. 

He  began  now  to  take  a still  deeper  interest  in 
politics,  but  refused  to  accept  office  because  he  could 
not  approve  of  the  policy  of  the  government  of  Buenos 
Aires  which  had  refused  to  join  a Confederation  of 
Argentine  Provinces.  But  he  did  accept  the  director- 
ship of  the  department  of  schools  of  the  municipality 


DOMINGO  F.  SARMIENTO 


159 


of  Buenos  Aires.  When  he  began  this  difficult,  uphill 
work,  a resolution  was  passed  appropriating  $600  for 
all  the  schools  in  the  city!  After  a year  he  was 
granted  $127,000  for  his  department,  and  with  it  a 
splendid  Model  School  was  erected.  When  soon  after- 
ward he  was  elected  state  senator  from  Buenos  Aires, 
he  immediately  proposed  that  extensive  public  lands 
recently  held  by  Rosas  should  become  school  property 
and  that  school-buildings  should  be  built  through  all 
the  provinces. 

He  used  his  great  influence  to  bring  about  the  final 
union  of  Buenos  Aires  with  the  Argentine  Con- 
federacy, and  he  made  a brilliant  address  before  a 
convention  of  provincial  delegates,  opposing  a bill  to 
establish  a state  religion.  It  was  largely  through  his 
influence  that  absolute  religious  toleration  and  liberty 
of  speech  were  declared  legal. 

The  interests  of  the  people  were  his  first  concern 
in  public  life.  He  obtained  permission  to  divide  a 
large  tract  of  land  near  the  capital  into  small  farms, 
and  these  he  sold  cheaply  to  prospective  farmers.  In 
the  center  of  this  land  he  built  a “Chicago  of  the 
desert,”  as  he  called  it.  Squares  and  streets  were 
laid  out,  a church,  a schoolhouse,  a bank,  and  a rail- 
road station  were  built,  the  whole  settlement  spring- 
ing up  as  quickly  as  a Western  mining  town  in  the 
United  States.  Thousands  of  people  went  on  excur- 
sions out  to  the  desert  to  see  the  marvelous  spectacle. 
At  that  time  thirty-nine  farmers  held  the  land.  Ten 
years  later  20,000  people  lived  in  the  district,  and  a 


160  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


railroad  was  built  giving  it  connection  with  Buenos 
Aires. 

Soon  after  this  he  returned  to  his  own  province  as 
governor.  He  founded  a university;  high  schools  for 
boys  and  girls;  and  primary  schools  in  every  section 
of  the  province.  After  the  bad  governors  who  had 
held  sway,  the  people  could  hardly  believe  their  good 
fortune ! He  left  this  office  after  a short  term  to  go 
to  the  United  States  as  ambassador  from  the  Argen- 
tine Republic.  While  he  was  there  he  determined  that 
his  country  should  have  the  benefit  of  every  progres- 
sive idea  that  the  United  States  could  suggest,  and 
through  his  books  and  reports  describing  American 
education,  industries,  and  institutions,  he  kept  the  rul- 
ing minds  of  Argentina  in  close  touch  with  these  ideas. 
The  Argentines  were  devoted  admirers  of  Abraham 
Lincoln,  and  Sarmiento  wrote  a life  of  Lincoln  which 
he  printed  at  his  own  expense  and  sent  to  South 
America  for  general  distribution.  He  started  an  im- 
portant review  called  Anibas  Americas — “The  Two 
Americas” — which  he  hoped  would  bring  the  two  coun- 
tries into  closer  sympathy  and  understanding — a pre- 
cursor of  the  work  that  is  being  done  to-day  to  pro- 
mote the  mutual  friendship  and  helpfulness  of  the 
continents. 

After  seven  years  of  absence  from  home  he  heard 
from  his  friends  that  he  was  a candidate  for  the  presi- 
dency of  Argentina,  and  they  urged  him  to  return  at 
once  to  conduct  his  political  campaign.  This  he  re- 
fused to  do.  He  announced  no  party  platform,  gave 


DOMINGO  F.  SARMIENTO 


161 


no  pledges,  took  none  of  the  customary  measures  to 
influence  the  voters  in  his  favor,  but  remained  in 
Washington  quietly  attending  to  his  business  as  usual. 
In  1868  he  was  elected  almost  unanimously.  “His 
election,”  says  one  writer,  “is  said  to  have  been  the 
freest  and  most  peaceful  ever  held  in  the  republic  and 
to  have  represented  as  nearly  as  any  the  will  of  the 
electors.”  With  his  administration  the  old  revolu- 
tionary days  of  the  republic  vanished  into  the  past, 
and  the  period  of  modern  Argentina  began  in  peace 
and  prosperity.  Even  his  opponents  admitted  that 
the  great  Schoolmaster  President’s  administration  pro- 
moted only  the  best  interests  of  all  the  people,  their 
education,  their  resources,  and  harmony  between  prov- 
inces which  had  once  fought  in  bitter  rivalry. 

After  his  six-year  term  was  over  he  served  in  Con- 
gress and  shared  in  every  intellectual  and  moral  move- 
ment, giving  all  his  best  powers,  up  to  the  time  of 
his  death  at  the  age  of  seventy-seven,  that  the  people 
of  his  country  might  have  a little  of  all  they  missed 
in  opportunity  and  happiness  during  the  terrible  years 
of  revolution  and  bloodshed. 

In  the  midst  of  all  the  honors  which  the  grateful 
Argentines  heaped  upon  their  noblest  statesman,  and 
the  incessant  demands  of  public  life  upon  his  time 
and  energy,  Sarmiento  never  ceased  to  work  for  what, 
as  a boy  in  school,  he  had  conceived  to  be  the  founda- 
tion of  national  life.  “Give  me  the  department  of 
schools,”  he  once  wrote  to  a friend.  “This  is  all  the 
future  of  the  Republic.” 


DOM  PEDRO  II 


DOM  PEDRO  II 


DOM  PEDRO  II 


It  was  a strange  prank  that  history  played  upon 
the  people  of  South  America  about  a century  ago. 
Just  when  the  Spanish-owned  colonies  were  on  the 
brink  of  the  revolution  which  made  them  independent 
republics,  the  Portuguese  territory  of  Brazil  welcomed 
to  her  port  of  Rio  de  Janeiro  the  royal  family  of 
Portugal,  driven  into  temporary  exile  by  Napoleon 
and  the  armies  of  France.  A royal  charter  graciously 
declared  Brazil  a kingdom,  and  the  king  on  his  recall 
to  Lisbon  left  his  son,  Pedro  I,  as  regent.  The  other 
colonies  fought  for  fifteen  years  to  become  republics; 
Brazil  became  a monarchy  as  a matter  of  course  and 
a few  years  later,  in  1822,  won  her  independence  with 
hardly  a struggle. 

Then,  instead  of  running  true  to  form,  the  monarchy 
came  much  nearer  being  a real  republic  than  its  neigh- 
bors which,  though  called  republics,  were  usually 
under  the  thumb  of  military  dictators  during  that 
chaotic  first  half  century  of  their  independence. 
Brazil  had  a constitution,  a Congress  or  General 
Assembly,  a legislature  elected  by  the  people;  but  better 
than  all  this,  Brazil  had  for  fifty  years  an  emperor 
who  respected  the  wishes  of  his  people,  whose  ideals 
of  government  were  genuinely  democratic,  Dom  Pedro 
II.  General  Rosas,  president  and  dictator  of  the 

165 


1 66  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


Argentine  Republic,  came  from  the  common  people 
and  ruled  like  a king;  His  Majesty  Dom  Pedro,  with 
the  blood  of  the  Bourbons,  the  Hapsburgs,  and  the 
Braganzas  in  his  veins,  administered  the  affairs  of  the 
nation  like  a president.  He  was  probably  the  most 
democratic  monarch  who  ever  lived.  An  American 
who  knew  him  said:  “He  was  far  more  democratic, 
not  only  in  manner  but  in  feeling,  than  many  a self- 
made  millionaire  who  fought  his  way  from  the  gutter 
among  the  democracy  of  our  own  United  States.” 

When  he  was  five  years  old  the  first  responsibilities 
of  an  emperor  fell  on  his  shoulders,  for  old  Pedro  I, 
at  odds  with  his  ministers,  abdicated  the.  throne  and 
left  the  country.  An  enthusiastic  populace,  hailing 
young  Pedro  II.  with  loud  “Vivas!”  and  elaborate 
ceremonies,  installed  him  emperor.  A court-day  was 
appointed  in  his  honor.  The  excited  people  unhar- 
nessed the  horses  from  the  imperial  carriage  and  drew 
it  themselves  through  the  city  streets.  Then  from  his 
little  chair  in  a window  of  the  palace  Pedro  reviewed 
the  troops  of  the  empire  and  afterwards  received  the 
greetings  of  his  officers  in  uniform,  and  of  diplomats 
from  all  over  the  world.  Next  day  he  went  back  to 
his  schoolroom,  and  for  ten  years  a troublesome 
Regency  managed  the  affairs  of  Brazil  for  him. 

At  last  a large  political  party  in  the  capital  grew 
tired  of  installing  regents  and  electing  new  ministers, 
and  insistently  demanded  that  the  emperor  himself 
begin  to  reign,  although  legally  he  was  still  too  young. 
According  to  the  constitution  an  emperor  reached  his 


DOM  PEDRO  II 


167 


majority  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  and  Dom  Pedro  was 
only  fifteen.  In  a speech  before  the  legislature  the 
leader  of  the  party  dramatically  broke  off  in  the  midst 
of  a violent  attack  against  the  Regency  and  cried: 
“ Viva  a maioridade  de  sua  Majestade  Imperial!”  The 
galleries  rang  with  such  applause  that  the  speech  was 
never  finished.  By  ten  o’clock  on  the  morning  of 
July  23,  1840,  ten  thousand  citizens  had  surrounded 
the  palace  of  the  Senate,  while  within,  the  president  of 
the  General  Assembly  made  an  announcement  which 
set  the  whole  city  wild  with  joy:  “I,  as  the  organ  of 
the  Representatives  of  this  nation  in  General  Assembly 
convened,  declare  that  His  Majesty  Dom  Pedro  II. 
is  from  this  moment  in  his  majority,  and  in  the  full 
exercise  of  his  constitutional  prerogatives.  Viva  Dom 
Pedro  II.,  constitutional  Emperor  and  perpetual  de- 
fender of  Brazil ! Viva  Dom  Pedro  II. !” 

So  mature  was  the  young  emperor  in  mind  and 
appearance  that  he  was  well  fitted  to  play  the  part  of 
an  eighteen-year-old.  His  tutors  were  the  best  that 
could  be  found  in  Europe  or  South  America,  and  he 
was  a brilliant  student.  He  had  a trick  of  relighting 
his  lamp  at  night  and  studying  for  a while  after  every- 
one had  gone  to  bed.  Natural  history,  mathematics 
and  astronomy  were  his  favorite  subjects  at  that  time. 
But  in  the  course  of  his  life  he  studied  almost  every- 
thing under  the  sun,  and  he  could  talk  fluently  on  any 
subject  in  English,  German,  French,  Italian  or  Span- 
ish; he  read  Latin,  Greek  and  Hebrew.  When  he 
was  sixty  he  learned  Sanskrit.  His  library  was  packed 


1 68  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


with  histories,  biographies,  encyclopedias  and  law- 
books and  he  knew  so  much  of  what  they  contained 
that  “a  stranger,”  it  was  said,  “can  scarcely  start  a 
subject  in  regard  to  his  own  country  that  would  be 
foreign  to  Dom  Pedro.”  Besides  his  library  the  em- 
peror loved  peace,  happiness  and  prosperity ; these  were 
his  gifts  to  Brazil  during  his  long  reign,  while  sur- 
rounding nations  struggled  with  anarchy  and  civil  war. 

Before  Dom  Pedro  was  eighteen  he  signed  a con- 
tract of  marriage  with  a princess  whom  he  had  never 
seen,  Theresa  Christina  Maria,  sister  of  the  King  of 
the  two  Sicilies.  A Brazilian  squadron  conducted  her 
to  Rio,  and  the  city  received  her  with  splendid  cere- 
monies. The  people  were  always  glad  of  an  excuse 
for  a display  of  royal  pageantry  and  enjoyed  it  a great 
deal  better  than  their  unpretentious  emperor  did. 

Dom  Pedro  kept  no  court — the  formalities  would 
have  been  irksome — and  it  is  said  that  he  “would  gobble 
through  his  state  dinners  in  a hurry  to  get  back  to  his 
books.”  An  American  tells  how  he  met  the  emperor 
one  day  in  Petropolis,  the  summer  capital,  standing  on 
the  street  corner  by  the  railroad  station  with  a single 
attendant,  apparently  out  for  a stroll,  and  stopping 
when  the  train  came  in  to  see  the  new  arrivals.  In  Rio 
he  usually  drove  about  in  the  afternoon  bareheaded  in  a 
rickety  old  barouche  drawn  by  four  mules,  with  a 
book  on  his  lap,  reading  busily  whenever  he  was  not 
bowing  right  and  left  to  his  friends.  When  he  visited 
New  York  he  arrived  at  his  hotel  carrying  a satchel 
and  wearing  a linen  duster.  Always  on  his  foreign 


DOM  PEDRO  II 


169 


tours  he  dropped  his  title  and  traveled  as  inconspicu- 
ously as  possible,  signing  his  name  simply  as  D.  Pedro 
d’ Alcantara. 

An  American  traveler  in  Brazil  tells  of  visiting  the 
emperor  at  the  beautiful  palace  of  San  Cristoval  out 
in  the  country  five  miles  from  Rio:  “His  Majesty  met 
me  upon  an  inner  corridor  of  the  palace,  attended  by 
a single  aide-de-camp,  who  however  immediately  dis- 
appeared. The  chamberlain  mentioned  my  name  and 
nationality.  His  Majesty  advancing  shook  hands  cor- 
dially, and  asked  me  in  well-accented  English  when 
I had  left  New  York.  The  chamberlain  with  a nod 
left  me  alone  with  the  emperor.  Dom  Pedro  II.  is 
a very  striking  figure,  tall,  broad-shouldered,  erect, 
with  a large,  intellectual  head.  . . . He  was  simply 
clad  in  a black  broadcloth  ‘dress-suit,’  and  wore  on 
his  breast  the  beautiful  star  of  the  Imperial  Order  of 
the  Southern  Cross,  and  in  a button-hole  the  diamond 
and  gold  badge  of  that  grand  old  historic  order,  the 
Golden  Fleece  of  Austria  and  Spain.  His  Majesty 
always  wears  these  decorations,  rarely  any  others,  nor 
is  he  often  seen  in  uniform  or  gala  dress  of  any 
kind.  . . . He  gives  no  balls  or  dinners,  and  is  always 
accessible  to  the  public  once  a week,  generally  on 
Saturday  evenings.  He  is  especially  noted  for  his 
tact,  energy  and  humanity.  He  is,  therefore,  very 
popular,  and  much  loved  by  all  his  subjects.” 

Once,  while  touring  through  the  interior  of  the  ■ 
country,  “seeing  Brazil  first,”  he  was  entertained  for 
several  days  by  the  leading  resident  of  a certain  town. 


170  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


During  the  visit  he  learned  from  a confidential  source 
that  his  host  was  unable  to  meet  a large  debt  which 
was  soon  due.  When  Dom  Pedro  was  about  to  say 
good-by,  he  remarked  casually:  “You  have  forgotten 
to  put  away  an  important  paper  I have  seen  in  the 
drawer  of  the  bureau  of  the  room  I occupied.”  It  was 
the  receipted  bill  for  the  entire  debt. 

Under  Dom  Pedro’s  guiding  influence  Brazil  gained 
steadily  in  power,  importance  and  reputation.  Home 
industries  and  foreign  commerce  doubled.  Telegraphic 
communications  were  established  with  the  United 
States  and  Europe.  Good  steamship  lines,  both  coast- 
wise and  oceanic,  made  Brazil  accessible  to  all  the 
world.  Public  property  was  opened  to  settlement,  and 
the  government  became  as  hospitable  to  all  foreign 
enterprise  as  it  had  before  this  been  exclusive.  The 
Brazilians,  little  interested  as  a rule  in  commerce, 
banking,  railroading,  engineering,  needed  the  stimula- 
tion and  example  of  outside  influence. 

Above  all  things  Dom  Pedro  wanted  to  stimulate 
the  love  of  knowledge  among  his  people,  to  give  the 
boys  and  girls  of  every  class  an  equal  chance.  Free 
public  schools  were  established  all  over  the  empire. 
At  his  request  Professor  Agassiz,  then  traveling  in 
Brazil,  gave  a popular  course  of  lectures  in  Rio  on 
scientific  subjects  which  the  public  were  invited  to 
attend.  Free  lectures  had  never  been  dreamed  of 
before  in  Brazil.  A raised  platform  was  built  in  the 
hall  for  the  use  of  the  emperor,  but  it  stood  empty 
during  the  series.  Dom  Pedro  preferred  to  sit  among 


DOM  PEDRO  II 


171 

the  audience.  One  time  the  emperor  learned  that 
3,000,000  francs  had  been  pledged  by  citizens  for  a 
fine  bronze  statue  of  himself  to  be  given  the  place  of 
honor  in  a city  square.  Dom  Pedro,  expressing  his 
deep  gratitude,  said  that  it  would  please  him  far  more 
if  the  money  could  be  used  for  public  schools  instead. 
The  grade  and  high  school  buildings  of  Rio  have  al- 
ways been  noted  for  their  beauty,  size  and  equipment. 

While  so  many  of  the  South  American  states  were 
lagging  far  behind  the  times,  Brazil,  under  Dom  Pedro, 
caught  up  with  other  progressive  nations  of  the  world. 
Liberty  of  speech  and  religious  tolerance  were  not 
even  questioned,  but  taken  for  granted.  Indeed  if  a 
man  on  the  streets  of  Brazil  wanted  to  speak  his  mind 
about  any  grievance  he  was  quite  apt  to  begin  right 
on  the  spot  while  the  crowd  gathered  to  hear  him — 
the  equivalent  of  a “mass  protest  meeting”  in  Madison 
Square,  New  York.  A noted  Protestant  clergyman,  a 
friend  of  many  Brazilians  and  of  the  emperor  himself, 
wrote:  “It  is  my  firm  conviction  that  there  is  not  a 
Roman  Catholic  country  on  the  globe  where  there 
prevails  a greater  degree  of  toleration  or  a greater 
liberality  of  feeding  towards  Protestants.”  One  of  the 
most  notorious  court  cases  during  Pedro’s  reign  was 
the  prosecution  of  two  Roman  Catholic  bishops  who 
tried  to  put  ecclesiastical  decrees  above  civil  law.  They 
were  condemned  to  prison  and  hard  labor. 

The  largest  part  of  the  emperor’s  day  was  devoted 
to  keeping  in  close  touch  with  the  life  and  activities  of 
his  people,  and  visiting  public  institutions.  He  arose 


172  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


promptly  at  six  o’clock,  read  quantities  of  newspapers 
so  that  he  knew  what  was  happening  all  over  the 
world;  attended  to  business  matters  until  half-past  nine, 
his  breakfast  hour;  then  met  those  who  had  appoint- 
ments with  him;  later  he  inspected  the  National 
Library,  the  Military  Academy,  the  government  ma- 
chine shops,  or  hospitals  and  public  schools.  After 
dinner  he  would  work  in  his  library  or  laboratory,  at- 
tend the  theater,  of  which  he  was  very  fond,  or  some 
state  function.  When,  in  1850,  a terrible  epidemic  of 
cholera  broke  out,  attacking  an  average  of  two  hun- 
dred people  a day,  Dom  Pedro  constantly  visited  the 
hospitals,  sat  by  patients,  gave  lavishly  of  his  help 
and  encouragement,  and  even  acted  as  nurse  on  many 
occasions. 

The  emperor  always  said  that  one  of  the  most 
delightful  days  he  ever  spent  was  on  the  American 
merchant-steamer  City  of  Pittsburg,  which  had  an- 
chored in  the  harbor  of  Rio  to  take  on  coal.  The 
captain  had  planned  an  all-day  “picnic”  and  excursion 
down  the  coast  for  Dom  Pedro,  his  family,  Cabinet, 
and  important  officials.  The  party,  all  in  full  court 
dress  except  the  emperor  and  empress,  arrived  in 
state  barges.  United  States  and  Brazilian  flags  waved 
from  every  mast  of  the  ship  and  a full  orchestra 
played  the  national  anthems  of  the  two  countries.  As 
she  steamed  out  through  the  harbor,  Brazilian  men- 
of-war  saluted  with  cannon,  and  the  Imperial  navy 
down  to  the  last  sailor  shouted  vivas.  Dom  Pedro 
meanwhile  lost  no  time  about  investigating  the  inner 


DOM  PEDRO  II 


173 


workings  of  the  steamer,  which  for  those  days  was 
a magnificent  specimen  of  naval  architecture.  He 
clambered  down  narrow,  oily  ladders,  and  squeezed 
through  minute  passageways  in  the  midst  of  the  ma- 
chinery to  the  very  hottest  and  lowest  corners  of  the 
ship,  inspecting  everything  from  the  engine  to  the 
coal-bunkers. 

An  enterprising  American  who  arranged  an  ex- 
hibit of  United  States  industries,  held  in  the  national 
museum  of  Rio,  tells  how  he  conducted  the  Emperor 
about  the  hall  as  his  particular  guest  of  honor.  “His 
Majesty  commenced  at  one  end,  and  with  great  earnest- 
ness and  interest  examined  everything  in  detail.  He 
made  many  inquiries,  and  manifested  a most  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  progress  of  our  country.”  At 
the  table  displaying  beautiful  bound  books  sent  by 
New  York  publishers,  the  emperor  “opened  the  Homes 
of  the  American  Authors,  and  surprised  me  by  his 
knowledge  of  our  literature.  He  made  remarks  on 
Irving,  Cooper,  and  Prescott,  showing  an  intimate 
acquaintance  with  each.  His  eye  falling  on  the  name  of 
Longfellow,  he  asked  me,  with  great  haste  and  eager- 
ness, ‘ Avez-vous  les  poemes  de  Monsieur  Longfellow?’ 
It  was  the  first  time  that  I ever  saw  Dom  Pedro  II. 
manifest  an  enthusiasm  which  in  its  earnestness  and 
simplicity  resembled  the  warmth  of  childhood  when 
about  to  possess  itself  of  some  long  cherished  object.” 
As  the  two  men  parted,  Dom  Pedro  said : “When  you 
return  to  your  country,  have  the  kindness  to  say  to 
Mr.  Longfellow  how  much  pleasure  he  has  given  me.” 


174  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


In  1863  several  Brazilian  vessels  were  captured  by 
the  English,  diplomatic  relations  between  the  empire 
and  Great  Britain  were  broken  off,  and  the  people 
became  dangerously  excited.  For  all  his  quiet  tastes 
there  was  an  iron  streak  in  Dom  Pedro  which  com- 
manded and  held  the  confidence  of  his  subjects  in  time 
of  emergency.  At  this  crisis  he  quieted  them  with  the 
simple  dignity  of  his  words : “I  am  above  all  a Brazilian 
and  as  such  more  than  any  one  interested  in  main- 
taining intact  the  dignity  and  honor  of  the  nation. 
As  I confide  in  my  people,  the  people  should  confide 
in  me  and  my  government  which  will  proceed  as  cir- 
cumstances shall  demand,  in  such  a manner  that  the 
title  ‘Brazilians’  of  which  we  are  proud  will  suffer 
no  outrage.  Where  the  honor  and  sovereignty  of  the 
nation  fall,  there  will  I fall  with  it.”  War  was  averted, 
but  the  episode  woke  the  nation  to  a realizing  sense 
of  its  maritime  weakness.  By  a large  donation  from 
his  own  salary  Dom  Pedro  gave  impetus  to  a nation- 
wide preparedness  campaign  and  funds  were  speedily 
raised  for  the  purchase  of  ironclads  and  ammunition. 

Two  years  later  fifty-seven  battalions  of  volunteers 
responded  to  the  emperor’s  call  to  arms.  Paraguay 
and  her  tyrant  dictator  had  declared  war,  and  Brazil, 
in  the  midst  of  her  years  of  peace  and  prosperity, 
was  called  upon  to  show  her  military  prowess.  It 
was  the  only  long  and  costly  war  of  Pedro’s  reign, 
and  by  it  Brazil  won  her  right  to  free  navigation  on 
the  Paraguay  River.  The  Brazilians  to-day  are  proud 
of  the  records  made  then  by  their  soldiers  and  sailors. 


DOM  PEDRO  II 


175 


“The  history  of  no  other  war,”  it  has  been  said,  “con- 
tains more  examples  of  heroic  and  hopeless  charges, 
or  stories  of  more  desperate  hand-to-hand  fighting.” 
When  the  war  was  over  Dom  Pedro  made  a voluntary 
pledge  to  protect  for  ten  years  the  independence  of  the 
little  country  he  had  just  defeated,  until  it  could  recover 
its  strength  and  look  out  for  itself.  It  meant  “Hands 
off”  for  all  the  other  Republics. 

Every  time  he  left  his  country  to  travel  abroad 
Dom  Pedro  added  great  prestige  to  Brazil,  and  when 
he  came  home  he  brought  with  him  all  the  progressive 
ideas  of  other  lands.  In  Europe  he  visited  schools, 
museums,  charitable  institutions,  industrial  plants,  and 
observatories,  as  energetically  as  the  casual  tourist 
visits  ancient  ruins.  Many  honors  were  given  him  by 
historical  and  scientific  societies.  The  gayest  city  in 
the  world  made  a social  lion  of  this  staid  scholar  and 
bookworm.  “The  man  really  in  fashion  in  the 
metropolis  of  the  French  Republic,”  says  one  writer, 
“was  the  emperor.  He  lived  in  the  Grand  Hotel, 
admitted  visitors,  and  talked  to  all  intelligently  and 
modestly.  In  general  he  reserved  to  himself  the  right 
to  ask  questions.  He  attended  balls,  frequented 
scientific  institutions,  and  lost  no  opportunity  of  gain- 
ing knowledge.  He  saw  all  the  notable  pictures,  he 
went  to  the  conservatory,  the  race-course,  the  exchange, 
and  the  opera.”  Every  phase  of  life  interested  him. 

All  official  honors,  hospitality  and  court  functions 
planned  for  him  simply  because  he  was  an  emperor, 
Dom  Pedro  politely  declined.  The  first  experience 


176  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


he  had  on  his  trip  to  Europe  proved  the  sincerity  of 
his  desire  to  lay  aside  royal  prerogatives  while  he  took 
his  holiday.  When  his  steamer  reached  Lisbon  all 
the  passengers  had  to  be  quarantined.  “The  king  of 
Portugal,  a nephew  of  the  emperor,  wished  to  make 
an  exception  of  Dom  Pedro,”  so  the  story  is  told,  “and 
sent  a special  steamer  fitted  up  in  royal  style  com- 
manded by  officers  of  the  navy  to  convey  His  Royal 
Majesty  to  the  shore  where  his  royal  nephew  and  a 
palace  awaited  him  and  his  empress.  The  emperor 
asked  if  his  fellow  passengers  were  also  to  be  ex- 
empted from  quarantine.  Receiving  a negative  reply 
he  immediately  said:  ‘Thank  His  Majesty  Dom  Luis, 
and  say  to  him,  that  I am  traveling  incognito ; hence  I 
am  subject  to  the  same  laws  as  these  gentlemen  who 
came  with  me  on  the  Douro  and  I will  serve  out  the 
quarantine  with  them.’  ” The  emperor  remained  with 
the  rest  in  the  uncomfortable  quarantine  building. 

Dom  Pedro  was  the  first  monarch  who  ever  visited 
the  United  States.  On  the  occasion  of  the  great  Cen- 
tennial Exposition  in  Philadelphia  in  1876  he  saw  a 
wonderful  opportunity  for  his  country,  and  he  decided 
to  go,  as  a plain  citizen  of  Brazil,  “to  be  present 
at  the  celebration  of  the  close  of  a century  of  freedom 
in  a great  constitutional  country,  and  to  aid  in  repre- 
senting the  products  and  industries  of  the  second 
nation  on  the  American  continent.”  At  the  grand 
opening  of  the  Exposition,  President  Grant  and  His 
Majesty  Dom  Pedro  went  together  on  a trip  of  in- 
spection through  the  vast  buildings  and  both  touched 


DOM  PEDRO  II 


1 77 


the  little  lever  that  started  the  motive  power  for  all 
the  machines  on  exhibition.  The  Brazilian  depart- 
ment was  a great  success,  winning  three  and  one  half 
times  as  many  premiums  as  any  other  South  American 
country.  The  emperor  and  the  exhibits  combined 
opened  the  eyes  of  thousands  of  American  business 
men  to  the  tremendous  natural  resources  and  indus- 
trial possibilities  of  the  empire. 

For  three  months  Dom  Pedro  traveled  through  the 
United  States,  devoting  an  average  of  sixteen  hours 
a day  to  sightseeing  and  investigation.  When  he  had 
finished  he  pronounced  Boston  his  favorite  city.  He 
particularly  enjoyed  visiting  Lowell,  Longfellow  and 
Whittier,  whose  works  he  knew  almost  by  heart.  Some 
of  them  he  had  translated  into  Portuguese.  Long- 
fellow once  said  that  his  “Story  of  King  Robert  of 
Sicily”  had  been  translated  into  Portuguese  by  three 
poets,  but  that  by  the  emperor  was  the  best  of  all. 
Many  prominent  Americans  entertained  Dom  Pedro 
in  their  homes,  and  scientific,  historical  and  geograph- 
ical societies  held  special  meetings  in  his  honor.  The 
New  York  Historical  Society  elected  him  an  honorary 
member  and  the  highest  tributes  were  paid  him.  “Dom 
Pedro  II,”  said  a speaker  of  the  evening,  “by  his 
character,  his  taste,  his  application  and  acquisitions 
in  literature  and  science  ascends  from  the  mere  for- 
tuitous position  as  emperor  and  takes  his  place  in  the 
world  as  a man.” 

In  New  York,  Dom  Pedro  often  arose  at  six  o’clock 
while  his  staff  was  still  sleeping,  and  did  some  sight- 


178  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


seeing  before  breakfast.  On  his  very  first  day  in  the 
city,  a Sunday,  instead  of  resting  after  his  5,000- 
mile  journey  from  Rio,  he  began  at  once  on  his  pro- 
gram of  “going  everywhere,  observing  everything  and 
questioning  everybody.”  He  went  first  to  early  mass 
at  the  Cathedral.  Then  he  spent  an  hour  at  one  of  the 
famous  services  which  Dwight  L.  Moody  and  Ira  D. 
Sankey  were  holding  in  the  old  Hippodrome.  During 
the  rest  of  the  day  he  visited  a newsboys’  home,  the 
headquarters  of  the  city  fire  department,  and  several 
police  stations.  There  was  very  little  of  New  York 
that  he  had  not  investigated  before  he  left.  “Well,” 
said  some  one  afterwards,  “he  certainly  would  have 
made  a first-class  reporter  if  he  hadn’t  been  a king.” 
The  greatest  national  event  during  Dom  Pedro’s 
reign  was  the  abolition  of  slavery,  and  no  one  worked 
harder  to  bring  it  to  pass  than  the  emperor  himself. 
The  African  slave-trade  had  been  abolished  in  1850 
and  from  that  time  on  public  opinion  grew  more  and 
more  in  favor  of  emancipation,  in  spite  of  the  strong 
opposition  of  planters  and  wealthy  slave  owners. 
Following  Dom  Pedro’s  example  many  high-minded 
citizens  freed  their  own  slaves.  The  slave  was  enabled 
to  free  himself  in  many  ways,  such  as  raising  his  own 
purchase  money.  The  incentive  to  do  this  was  great, 
for  an  ambitious  slave  had  plenty  of  chance  to  rise 
in  the  world.  “Some  of  the  most  intelligent  men  I 
met  with  in  Brazil,”  says  one  writer,  “were  of  African 
descent.  If  a man  has  freedom,  money  and  merit,  no 
matter  how  black  his  skin  may  be,  no  place  in  society 


DOM  PEDRO  II 


179 


is  refused  him.  In  the  colleges,  the  medical,  law  and 
theological  schools,  there  is  no  distinction  of  color.” 
Plots  of  ground  were  frequently  given  to  the  freedmen 
for  cultivation,  and  the  government  encouraged  them 
to  become  independent  planters. 

After  many  hot  debates  the  General  Assembly 
passed  a law  in  1871  declaring  free  from  that  date  all 
children  of  slave  mothers,  and  all  the  government 
slaves.  In  the  next  fifteen  years  the  number  of  slaves 
decreased  by  one  half.  Dom  Pedro’s  dearest  wish  was 
that  he  might  live  to  see  every  slave  in  the  country  a 
free  man,  and  this  wish  came  true  in  the  last  year  of 
his  reign.  He  had  gone  abroad  in  poor  health,  leaving 
his  daughter  Isabel  as  regent.  When  Congress  met, 
the  Princess  railroaded  the  abolition  law  through  both 
Houses  in  eight  days  and  signed  the  bill  which  put  the 
law  into  immediate  force.  It  was  the  last  act  of  the 
royal  dynasty  of  Brazil. 

In  1889  a Republican  revolt  took  the  whole  empire 
by  surprise.  It  had  long  been  brewing  beneath  the 
surface,  but  so  great  was  the  emperor’s  popularity  that 
Republicans  had  tactitly  agreed  to  postpone  the  new 
government  until  his  death.  A rumor  that  Dom  Pedro 
might  abdicate  in  favor  of  Princess  Isabel  and  thus 
initiate  another  generation  of  monarchy  precipitated 
the  revolution.  The  Republican  leagues,  with  the  back- 
ing of  the  army  and  navy,  refused  to  wait  any  longer. 
Dom  Pedro,  summoned  from  Petropolis  by  telegram, 
found  a provisional  government  already  organized 
when  he  reached  the  capital.  In  the  Imperial  Palace 


i8o  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


at  Rio,  surrounded  by  insurgents,  the  old  emperor 
was  told  briefly  that  his  long  reign  was  over. 

“We  are  forced  to  notify  you,”  said  the  ultimatum, 
“that  the  provisional  government  expects  from  your 
patriotism  the  sacrifice  of  leaving  Brazilian  territory 
with  your  family  in  the  shortest  possible  time.” 

Dom  Pedro  II.  replied  simply:  “I  resolve  to  submit 
to  the  command  of  circumstances  and  will  depart  with 
my  family  for  Europe  to-morrow,  leaving  this  beloved 
country  to  which  I have  tried  to  give  firm  testimony 
of  my  love  and  my  dedication  during  nearly  half  a 
century  as  chief  of  the  State.  I shall  always  have 
kind  remembrances  of  Brazil  and  hopes  for  its  pros- 
perity.” The  next  day  the  imperial  family  sailed  for 
Lisbon. 

The  Imperial  coat  of  arms  and  flag  were  ordered 
to  be  torn  down  from  all  buildings;  streets  called 
after  the  royal  family  were  renamed;  the  Dom  Pedro 
Railway  became  the  Central  Railway  of  Brazil;  and 
Pedro  II.  College  was  changed  to  National  Institution 
of  Instruction.  In  three  days’  time  a monarchy  had 
been  overthrown  without  bloodshed  or  opposition.  The 
emperor,  who  had  sometimes  been  called  the  best  Re- 
publican in  Brazil,  was  replaced  by  a military  dictator, 
and  from  that  time  to  this  the  nation  has  known  her 
share  of  civil  war. 

The  homesick  emperor,  living  in  European  hotels 
or  rented  villas,  till  the  time  of  his  death  in  1891, 
“always  remained  as  one  on  the  point  of  departure, 
as  if  he  ever  expected  to  be  recalled  by  his  former 


DOM  PEDRO  II 


181 


subjects,  a hope  which  till  the  last  moment  would  not 
die  out  of  his  heart.”  To  the  “last  American  monarch” 
an  American  pays  this  tribute  in  the  dedication  of  his 
book  on  South  America  :l 


TO 

H.  M.  DOM  PEDRO  II. 

EMPEROR  OF  BRAZIL 
SCHOLAR  AND  SCIENTIST,  PATRON  OF 
ARTS  AND  LETTERS, 

STERLING  STATESMAN  AND  MODEL  MONARCH, 
WHOSE  REIGN  OF  HALF  A CENTURY  HAS  BEEN 
ZEALOUSLY  AND  SUCCESSFULLY  DEVOTED  TO 
PUBLIC  INSTRUCTION,  INDUSTRIAL 
ENTERPRISE,  AND  THE  ABOLITION 
OF  SLAVERY 

THROUGHOUT  THE  VAST  AND  OPULENT 
“EMPIRE  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  CROSS” 


‘Vincent,  Around  and  About  South  America. 


DAVID  TRUMBULL 


DAVID  TRUMBULL 


DAVID  TRUMBULL 


A long,  narrow  strip  of  crowded,  bustling  wharves 
and  business  streets,  a steep  rise  of  two  hundred  feet 
to  quiet  green  hills  topped  with  gay  gardens  and 
pretty  villas  washed  in  white  or  blue,  snow-crowned 
Mount  Aconcagua  in  the  background,  and  down  in 
front  the  blue  bay  full  of  ships  from  all  over  the  world 
— this  is  the  Valparaiso  of  to-day,  chief  port  on  the 
western  coast  of  South  America.  But  when  David 
Trumbull,  from  New  England,  stood  at  the  railing  of 
the  Mississippi  as  she  sailed  into  the  harbor  on  Christ- 
mas day  in  1845,  “there  was  not  a tree  in  sight  save 
a cactus  on  a hilltop.  The  houses  were  so  scattered 
as  to  make  little  impression,  and  one  would  say, 
‘Where  is  the  city?’  ” 

On  every  side  were  sailing  vessels.  All  the  ships  from 
New  England  and  the  eastern  coast  of  the  Americas 
on  their  long  journey  around  Cape  Horn  up  to  the 
northwest  coast  after  whales  and  seals,  or  to  California 
a few  years  later  when  gold  was  discovered,  put  in  at 
Valparaiso  for  supplies  and  repairs.  The  old  town 
was  a port  of  call  for  all  merchant  and  fishing  vessels 
plying  along  the  coast.  In  the  course  of  one  year 
1,500  of  them  anchored  in  the  bay,  representing  nearly 
thirty  different  nations,  and  15,000  sailors  ran  wild  in 

185 


1 86  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


town.  To  reach  this  rough,  ever-changing  population, 
much  of  it  British  and  American,  David  Trumbull  had 
volunteered  to  go  to  Valparaiso.  His  was  the  first 
sailor  mission  in  South  America. 

Trumbull  belonged  to  a fine  old  New  England 
family,  staunch  Congregationalists,  descendants  of 
John  Alden  and  “the  Puritan  maiden,  Priscilla,”  and 
later  of  old  Jonathan  Trumbull,  governor  of  Con- 
necticut when  Washington  was  president  of  the 
United  States.  One  of  this  famous  family,  Henry 
Clay  Trumbull,  once  said:  “The  question  is,  not 
whether  you  are  proud  of  your  grandfather,  but 
whether  your  grandfather  would  be  proud  of  you.  It 
is  a good  thing  to  be  in  a family  line  which  had  a 
fine  start  long  ago,  and  has  been  and  still  is  improving 
generation  by  generation.  It  is  a sad  thing  to  be  in 
a family  line  where  the  best  men  and  women  were 
in  former  generations.”  David  was  always  proud  of 
his  ancestors.  He  once  “danced  like  a schoolboy” 
when  he  found  proof  that  the  only  one  ever  charged 
with  illiteracy  had  written  his  own  will.  His  ancestors 
would  have  been  equally  proud  of  him,  for  his  is  one 
of  the  greatest  names  in  the  Trumbull  family. 

After  his  school  days  were  over,  he  had  a taste 
of  business  life  in  New  York — his  only  “commercial 
experience,”  he  called  it.  But  it  was  the  wrong  trail 
for  David  and  he  quickly  changed  his  mind.  He  pre- 
pared for  Yale,  and  entered  in  the  fall  of  1838,  just 
before  his  nineteenth  birthday,  bent  on  being  a minis- 
ter. In  the  intimacy  of  school  and  university  life  men 


DAVID  TRUMBULL 


187 


are  quick  to  discover  the  caliber  of  their  companions. 
Trumbull  passed  muster  with  high  honors,  and  his 
status  in  the  college  community  was  an  enviable  one. 
“In  all  that  he  said  or  did,”  said  a Yale  friend,  “there 
was  displayed  a certain  nobility  of  character  which 
was  the  more  attractive  as  it  seemed  so  natural  to 
him.  He  had  a rich  vein  of  humor;  and  we  will  add — 
as  it  seems  to  have  been  a characteristic  that  was  often 
made  a subject  of  remark  during  all  his  life — his  face 
wore  a peculiarly  joyous  expression,  which  was  quite 
remarkable,  and  gave  an  additional  charm  to  the  genial 
smile  with  which  he  always  greeted  those  to  whom 
he  spoke.” 

The  very  year  that  he  graduated  from  Princeton 
Theological  Seminary,  he  heard  that  the  Foreign  Evan- 
gelical Society  wanted  a young  minister  to  go  to  Chile. 
It  was  a splendid  opening  for  a man  of  big  mentality 
equal  to  grappling  with  difficult  situations.  There 
were  no  Protestant  missions,  no  Protestant  churches 
on  the  whole  west  coast.  Pioneer  work  was  what 
Trumbull  wanted.  It  would  be  like  owning  his  own 
business — he  could  build  it  up  just  as  he  pleased.  Out 
of  nothing  at  all  he  could  create  something  of  great 
and  lasting  value.  Before  he  left  the  family  home 
at  Colchester,  Connecticut,  for  Chile,  he  took  his  pen 
and  wrote  down  definitely,  so  that  “he  might  be  able 
to  keep  it  more  in  mind,”  what  he  considered  to  be 
the  agreement  with  God  which  he  had  made.  In  it 
he  said  among  other  things : “My  God,  I will  begin 
a new  life.  . , , I will  aim  to  please  thee  every  day 


1 88  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


forward.  ...  In  my  public  life  as  a minister,  I will 
study  thy  word,  and  all  truth  where  it  can  be  found, 
in  candor,  with  prayer;  and  will  apply  myself  to  find 
out  suitable  languages,  figures  and  thoughts,  that 
others  may  be  taught  by  my  efforts.  . . . Accept  me 
then  with  all  my  powers,  not  as  a gift,  but  as  a favor 
to  myself.  Fit  me  to  serve  thee,  and  then  make  use 
of  me.  Do  just  thy  pleasure.”  Then  he  signed  his 
name  to  the  prayer  as  to  a contract. 

Trumbull  preached  his  first  sermon  to  the  sailors 
on  board  the  Mississippi,  anchored  in  Valparaiso 
Bay,  a few  days  after  his  arrival;  his  first  sermon  on 
shore  at  a little  printing  shop,  with  a “printer’s  horse” 
for  a pulpit  and  rolls  of  paper  for  pews.  His  first 
friend  in  the  strange,  ugly  little  city  was  the  chaplain 
of  a small  Episcopalian  congregation  which  met  in  a 
private  room  for  services  on  Sunday. 

Public  worship  was  forbidden.  A Protestant  in 
South  America  was  as  much  lost  as  a man  without  a 
country.  He  had  no  church,  no  social  position,  no 
legal  rights.  Civil  marriage  was  not  allowed,  and 
it  was  almost  impossible  for  him  to  find  a way  to  be 
married,  except  on  board  an  English  or  American 
ship  outside  the  three-mile  area  of  sea  over  which  a 
country  has  control.  All  the  cemeteries  were  owned 
by  the  Catholic  Church,  and  the  only  burial  place  for 
a Protestant  in  Valparaiso  was  the  dumping  ground 
outside  the  city.  Many  well-to-do  residents,  English, 
Scotch,  American  or  German  business  men,  once 
Protestant,  had  drifted  into  the  Roman  Church, 


DAVID  TRUMBULL 


189 


simply  because  there  had  been  nothing  else  to  do,  or 
because  their  friends  or  the  Chilean  women  they  mar- 
ried were  Catholics.  “Some  of  the  most  potential 
Roman  Catholics  here  today,”  Trumbull  wrote  home, 
“are  of  British  origin;  their  parents  or  grandparents, 
having  had  no  public  worship  to  attract  them,  have  at- 
tended none,  and  their  wives,  worthy  and  good  Cath- 
olics, have  carried  their  children  into  that  connection, 
unless  they  have  gone  into  free  thinking.” 

To  conserve  this  drifting  population  he  organized 
a Union  Church  in  1847,  with  fifteen  charter  members. 
All  those  who  had  no  church  of  their  own  he  welcomed 
into  his.  At  first  a warehouse  was  rented  for  the 
services,  but  it  was  small  and  so  dark  that  whale-oil 
lamps  had  to  be  lighted  even  in  broad  daylight.  For 
seven  years  the  church  had  no  home  of  its  own.  Then 
enough  money  was  saved  to  buy  a plot  of  land  and 
put  up  a little  building — the  first  Protestant  church  in 
South  America.  It  was  hard  work  even  to  finish 
making  it.  City  officials  ordered  Trumbull  to  give 
up  his  absurd  plans,  and  threatened  to  call  out  the 
police.  A Protestant  church  would  be  an  outrage  to 
the  community,  and  a service  held  publicly  would  be 
breaking  the  law.  Good  Catholics  were  horrified  and 
the  priests  prepared  for  battle. 

But  Trumbull  was  a capable  fighter  himself,  and 
he  had  substantial  backing  in  a.number  of  English  and 
Scotch  merchants,  influential  residents,  who  belonged 
to  his  church.  For  six  months  matters  were  at  a stand- 
still. Then  the  government  compromised.  Services 


190  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 

might  be  held  on  these  conditions:  that  the  building 
be  entirely  surrounded  by  a high  wooden  fence  with 
one  small,  inconspicuous  gate,  shutting  off  any  view 
from  the  street;  and  that  hymns  and  anthems  be  sung 
so  softly  that  passersby  could  never  hear  them  and  be 
tempted  to  step  in  to  listen.  Now  at  last  the  Protestant 
had  his  niche  in  the  community,  and  David  Trumbull’s 
great  ambition  was  to  widen  it  until  Protestant  and 
Catholic  should  have  equal  rights  and  one  church  no 
longer  control  the  affairs  of  state.  The  vision  of  the 
young  minister  who  had  come  to  preach  to  the  sailors 
of  one  port  had  widened  until  it  took  in  a whole  coun- 
try, a changed  constitution,  the  overthrow  of  century- 
old  tradition.  “The  symbols  of  religion  remain,”  he 
wrote  of  Latin  America,  “but  religion  itself  has  gone. 
The  shadow  remains,  but  the  substance  has  fled.”  And 
so,  sailors,  foreign  residents,  Chilean  people — Trum- 
bull set  himself  to  reach  them  all,  to  give  them  a bit  of 
the  genuine  spirit  of  Christ  which  is  the  foundation 
for  thought  and  conduct  among  all  the  great  nations 
of  earth. 

His  work  among  the  seamen  was  the  entering 
wedge.  On  the  ships,  in  the  city  hospital  where  there 
were  always  sick  sailors,  in  the  jails  where  other  un- 
happy specimens  spent  most  of  their  time  ashore, 
Trumbull  searched  them  out,  and  not  a sailor  but  felt 
that  he  had  at  least  one  friend  in  the  city.  Officials 
who  at  first  had  wanted  nothing  better  than  to  find 
fault  with  him,  began  to  appreciate  the  neighborliness 
and  good  will  of  the  young  minister,  and  gave  him 


DAVID  TRUMBULL 


191 

permission  to  go  ahead  and  do  anything  he  liked  so 
long  as  he  worked  only  among  the  crews  of  vessels 
anchored  in  the  harbor,  and  among  non-Spanish- 
speaking  people.  So  down  on  the  waterfront  he 
opened  a Bethel,  headquarters  for  his  mission,  with 
flag  flying  over  it  so  that  no  sailor  could  miss  seeing  it 
when  he  passed  by. 

In  1850  he  married  a girl  from  his  own  New  Eng- 
land State,  and  with  her  help  started  a school  for  girls, 
“for  the  education  of  those  who  were  to  be  the  mothers 
of  the  next  generation  of  Chileans.”  All  schools  were 
Catholic  then,  and  the  authorities  looked  with  suspicion 
upon  this  upstart  school  in  their  midst.  They  hastened 
to  send  an  examining  committee  to  pick  flaws  in  it,  but 
the  committee  found  nothing  it  could  honestly  con- 
demn and  came  away  with  high  recommendation  for 
the  whole  enterprise. 

Editing  newspapers  and  publishing  pamphlets  were 
two  of  Trumbull’s  favorite  diversions.  He  wanted  to 
discuss  the  big  questions  of  the  day  before  the  widest 
possible  audience,  and,  like  Sarmiento,  hammer  daily 
on  the  public  conscience  until  ideas  of  progress  and 
reform  were  firmly  lodged  in  people’s  minds.  He 
published  and  edited  the  first  Protestant  paper  in 
Spanish,  calling  it  La  Piedra,  which  means  “The 
Rock.”  On  the  title  page  were  those  words  of  Christ 
to  Peter:  “Thou  art  Peter,  and  upon  this  rock  I will 
build  my  church.”  It  came  out  as  often  as  he  could 
gather  enough  funds  to  print  it.  He  also  published 
The  Record  in  English,  El  Heraldo,  a Santiago  news- 


192  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


paper,  and  wrote  sermons  and  editorials  for  a number 
of  Spanish  dailies.  One  time  a letter  came  to  him 
from  a society  of  workingmen,  which  he  sent  home 
to  show  his  friends  because  it  pleased  him  so  much : 

“We  make  it  our  duty  to  give  you  our  best  thanks 
in  the  name  of  the  society.  Our  statutes  do  not  allow 
the  discussion  of  religion  or  politics  while  in  session, 
but  afterwards,  adjourning,  your  periodical  is  read 
and  each  offers  his  remarks  upon  it.  . . . Progress 
and  knowledge  are  advancing  rapidly  and  are  waking 
up  minds  that  have  been  asleep.  Sons  of  the  common 
people,  we  from  our  youth  have  been  educated  in  the 
practises  of  Romanism,  and  they  who  know  the  truth 
pure  and  spotless  are  very  few;  hence  it  is  necessary 
that  those  apostles  who  try  to  make  it  known  should 
be  unfaltering  in  the  use  of  the  press  in  bringing  out 
their  publications.” 

Whenever  Trumbull  found  something  he  wanted  the 
people  to  read  he  had  it  translated  and  printed  first, 
and  collected  the  money  to  pay  for  it  second.  He  was 
so  often  in  process  of  securing  funds  for  one  and  an- 
other good  cause,  and  so  successful  in  doing  it,  that  he 
said  his  epitaph  ought  to  be : “Here  lies  a good  beggar.” 

He  began  a campaign  for  circulating  Bibles,  which, 
since  the  days  of  James  Thomson,  had  gradually  dis- 
appeared from  the  land  under  ban  of  the  church.  The 
archbishop  published  a letter  declaring  the  Bible  to  be 
fraudulent  and  heretical,  and  forbidding  its  use. 
Trumbull  then  rode  into  the  lists  armed  to  the  teeth 
with  repartee.  He  answered  the  letter  and  kept  on 


DAVID  TRUMBULL 


193 


answering  letters  till  his  opponent  “withdrew  in  con- 
fusion.” He  liked  a chance  for  a good  newspaper 
skirmish,  because  of  the  wide  publicity  it  always  gave 
to  his  ideas,  but  “he  was  always  the  gentleman  and 
always  the  friend,  and  his  polemics  were  full,  not  of 
hard  hitting  only,  but  also  of  his  genial  kindness  and 
irresistible  love.”  This  was  the  secret  of  his  success. 
He  knew  how  to  get  along  with  people. 

The  most  celebrated  skirmish  of  those  years  was  a 
series  of  public  debates  between  Trumbull  and  a fiery 
Catholic  named  Mariano  Casanova.  Dr.  Robert  E. 
Speer  tells  the  story:  “In  Chile  there  is  a Saint  of 
Agriculture  who  guards  the  fortune  of  farmers,  giving 
them  rich  harvests  and  sending  rain  at  the  appointed 
times.  Since  the  seasons  are  fairly  regular  the  good 
offices  of  San  Isidro  are  seldom  required.  Occasion- 
ally, however,  the  rains  are  delayed,  much  to  the  loss 
of  the  sower  and  the  distress  of  the  eater.  At  such 
times  mild  measures  are  used  to  begin  with,  and  the 
saint  is  reminded  of  his  duty  by  processions  and  pray- 
ers and  placated  by  offerings.  If  he  still  refuses  to 
listen,  his  statue  is  banished  from  the  church,  even 
manacled  and  beaten  through  the  streets.  In  1863 
San  Isidro  answered  the  prayers  of  his  devotees  with 
commendable  promptitude.  Eighteen  hours  after  sup- 
plications had  been  made  at  his  altar  rain  fell  in  copi- 
ous showers.  In  view  of  this  signal  blessing  the  arch- 
bishop called  upon  the  faithful  for  contributions  to 
repair  San  Isidro’s  shabby  church.  It  was  at  this  junc- 
ture that  Dr.  Trumbull  entered  the  lists,  and  in  an  arti- 


194  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


cle  entitled  “Who  Gives  the  Rain?”  he  attacked  the 
practise  of  saint  worship.  Casanova  replied  and  the 
battle  was  on.  Charge  and  countercharge  followed  in 
rapid  succession.  The  affair  got  into  the  provincial 
papers  and  was  discussed  all  over  the  country.  San 
Isidro  and  rain  became  the  question  of  the  day;  and 
at  last  Casanova  withdrew  from  the  field,  routed  foot 
and  horse.” 

In  all  enterprises  which  were  for  the  public  welfare 
Dr.  Trumbull  cooperated  heartily  with  the  Roman 
Catholics,  adapting  himself  just  so  far  as  he  could  to 
the  life  of  the  community.  Once  when  a bishop 
wanted  to  publish  an  inexpensive  edition  of  a Catholic 
New  Testament,  Dr.  Trumbull  helped  him  collect 
funds,  some  of  which  came  from  members  of  Union 
Church.  One  year  a terrible  cholera  plague  raged 
in  the  city.  Dr.  Trumbull  was  appointed  a member  of 
the  relief  committee  and  joined  forces  with  the  Cath- 
olics in  relieving  the  distress  of  the  poor  and  providing 
extra  hospital  space.  Again  he  set  to  work  to  collect 
money,  sending  a substantial  sum  to  the  cure  of  San 
Felipe,  who  afterward  wrote  him : “That  God,  who 
has  promised  to  reward  the  cup  of  cold  water  given  in 
his  name,  may  crown  you  with  all  good,  is  my  desire.” 

In  all  communities  there  are  men  who  have  a hand 
in  every  good  work,  whose  names  appear  on  commit- 
tees and  governing  boards,  whose  influence  is  felt  in 
matters  of  state,  of  commerce,  of  education.  Trum- 
bull was  such  a man,  a leader  of  national  reform,  the 
friend  and  adviser  of  the  Liberal  party.  He  had  once 


DAVID  TRUMBULL 


195 


been  looked  upon  with  suspicion  and  hatred.  As  the 
years  passed  by  he  gained  such  recognition  and  respect 
in  Valparaiso  and  other  parts  of  Chile  that  “a  prestige 
began  to  surround  him.”  His  dream  of  reaching  the 
Chilean  people  as  well  as  the  foreign  population  began 
to  come  true.  With  the  backing  of  the  Liberal  party 
he  made  the  first  feeble  little  step  toward  religious 
liberty  by  pushing  a bill  through  Congress  which  per- 
mitted “dissenters”  to  worship  in  private,  and  to  estab- 
lish private  schools  for  their  children.  But  they  were 
not  allowed  to  build  any  church  which  looked  like  a 
church.  It  must  be  elaborately  disguised.  There  must 
be  no  telltale  bell  or  steeple  to  distinguish  it  from  any 
private  house  or  hall.  Before  this  the  services  in 
Union  Church  had  been  allowed  as  a favor  to  influ- 
ential British  merchants.  Now  they  became  strictly 
legal.  Ten  years  later  he  could  write:  “The  elections 
for  Congress  and  president  are  approaching;  in  the 
platforms  of  the  parties  it  is  encouraging  to  notice  that 
religious  freedom  occupies  a prominent  place.” 

The  cemetery  bill  and  the  civil  marriage  act  were 
the  two  reforms  upon  which  Dr.  Trumbull  had  set 
his  heart,  not  only  for  the  sake  of  foreigners  but  for 
the  great  masses  of  Chileans  who  were  too  poor  to 
pay  the  exorbitant  fees  demanded  by  the  priests  for 
burial  and  marriage  rites.  The  marriage  ceremony 
had  become  such  a luxury  that  a great  percentage  of 
the  people  decided  they  could  get  along  very  well  with- 
out it,  and  the  moral  fiber  of  the  state  grew  steadily 
weaker.  After  eight  years  of  fighting,  the  cemetery 


196  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 

bill,  allowing  free  burial,  was  passed  by  Congress  in 
1883,  ar,d  four  months  later  Dr.  Trumbull  reported: 
“Our  Congress  has  just  passed  a civil  marriage  bill 
which  deprives  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  of  all 
superiority  over  other  denominations  and  must  reduce 
its  emoluments  immensely.” 

Meanwhile  Union  Church  grew  influential  and 
wealthy  enough  to  support  its  own  ministry,  so  that 
when  the  Presbyterian  Board  of  Foreign  Missions  took 
charge  of  the  mission  work  in  Chile,  it  found  an  inde- 
pendent congregation,  which,  far  from  needing  help, 
stood  ready  to  give  both  money  and  cooperation  to  the 
Presbyterian  mission.  Dr.  Trumbull  longed  to  have  the 
Board  extend  its  mission  work  to  other  cities.  “As 
yet  this  whole  line  of  coast  seems  to  be  left  out  of 
everybody’s  calculations,”  he  wrote.  “Its  inhabitants 
would  be  better  off  if  they  lived  in  Asia.  Is  America 
so  poor  a name  to  divine  by  ? . . . Why  are  these  less 
important  to  care  for  than  people  in  the  center  of 
Africa,  so  that  when  Stanley  tells  of  them  half  a dozen 
missionary  societies  rush  to  occupy  the  ground,  and 
here  not  a single  one  ?”  Another  letter  says : “The 
manager  of  the  steamship  company  told  me  only  yes- 
terday that  they  have  five  hundred  men,  English,  in 
Callao,  but  that  there  is  no  service.  I know  from  a 
number  of  these  men  that  they  desire  to  have  worship ; 
their  decided  preference  is  Presbyterian,  and  you  are 
the  people  that  ought  to  give  it  to  them.  If  you  will 
provide  it,  you  will  win  credit  and  you  will  have 
assistance.  Only  do  not  wait  for  anybody  to  ask  it, 


DAVID  TRUMBULL 


197 


nor  for  anybody  to  promise  anything.  Just  sail  in  like 
Farragut  into  Mobile  Bay;  consider  yourself  that 
gallant  and  daring  admiral  up  in  the  maintop  of  the 
Richmond,  tied  by  your  waist  so  as  not  to  fall,  and 
capture  the  forts  of  Callao  harbor.” 

The  Trumbull  home  in  Valparaiso,  built  high  on 
the  cliffs  overlooking  the  city,  was  a delightful  place 
to  visit.  Dr.  John  Trumbull,  one  of  the  sons,  says: 
“With  all  that  my  father  did,  he  ever  found  time  to 
be  with  and  help  his  children.  After  my  father  mar- 
ried Jane  Wales  Fitch,  they  came  out  to  Chile  on  an 
independent  basis,  supporting  themselves  by  conduct- 
ing a young  ladies’  school  for  eight  or  ten  years ; then, 
at  the  request  of  Union  Church,  he  consented  to  give 
it  up  and  devote  himself  entirely  to  pastoral  and  church 
work,  though  they  were  only  able  to  offer  as  a salary 
half  of  what  he  was  then  making.  At  that  time  I can 
remember  that  we  had  to  give  up  horseback  riding — 
for  my  brother  David  and  I had  been  in  the  habit  of 
riding  out  to  Fisherman’s  Bay  every  morning  with 
father  for  a dip  and  a swim — in  fact,  I was  but  five 
when  he  taught  us  to  swim  and  even  to  jump  off  of 
the  spring-board  into  deep  water — and  take  to  footing 
it.  He  believed  in  all  manly  sports,  which,  according 
to  him,  included  everything  but  shooting,  of  which  he 
never  approved;  and  he  taught  or  encouraged  us  to 
walk,  run,  play  cricket,  ride,  climb,  swim,  dive,  row, 
fish,  cook,  and  so  forth.  On  holidays  we  often  went 
off  as  a family  on  picnics  to  the  country,  or  up -the 
hills  and  ravines  back  of  Valparaiso,  and  were  taught, 


198  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


like  the  Boy  Scouts  of  the  present  day,  to  be  self- 
reliant  and  ready  for  any  and  every  emergency. 

“Winter  evenings  he  was  in  the  habit  of  reading 
aloud  to  us  Goldsmith’s  Vicar  of  Wakefield,  Bun- 
yan’s  Pilgrim’s  Progress,  Dickens’  Nicholas  Nickleby, 
Scott’s  Old  Mortality,  and  Irving’s  Knickerbocker 
Stories  and  Life  of  Washington. 

“People  might  wonder  how  he  found  time  for  all 
he  did.  The  secret  of  it  was  that  he  was  ever  an  early 
riser.  By  five  we  were  off  on  our  rides  or  walks,  and 
before  that  he  had  often  got  in  an  hour’s  work;  and 
during  his  later  years  he  had  by  eight  o’clock  already 
done  a good  day’s  work. 

“As  to  his  children,  it  was  often  said  the  Trumbull 
children  never  had  any  bringing  up — that,  like  Topsy, 
they  simply  ‘growed.’  Certainly  I can  remember  but 
two  trouncings — one  for  playing  with  matches  at  bon- 
fires on  the  shingle  roof  of  our  house,  which,  as  fire- 
men, we  had  to  extinguish ; and  again  for  playing  with 
my  brother  at  William  Tell,  using  a potato  which  we 
alternately  balanced  on  our  heads,  and  an  old-fashioned 
musket  on  which  we  used  up  half  a box  of  caps. 

“To  show  that  my  father’s  discipline  was  guided  by 
a tactful  wisdom  it  might  be  worth  while  to  record 
that  when,  as  a boy  just  fifteen  years  of  age,  I was 
sent  off  alone  to  the  United  States,  the  only  sermon 
which  I got  was  the  following:  ‘John,  my  boy,  there 
is  only  one  fear  that  I have  in  your  going  from  home ; 
and  that  is,  that,  since  you  are  so  good-natured  and 
ready  to  please,  you  may  not  have  the  manliness  to 


DAVID  TRUMBULL 


199 


say  no.’  That  remark  drove  home,  as  you  can  well 
understand,  for  once  a boy  realizes  the  cowardice  of 
yielding  to  temptation,  the  battle  against  it  is  more 
than  half  won,  and  I am  free  to  acknowledge  that  that 
did  more  to  stiffen  my  moral  backbone  than  any  other 
spoken  word  I ever  heard. 

“We  were  a large  family — four  boys  and  three  girls 
who  lived  to  grow  up.  All  of  the  boys  were  sent  to 
Yale  and  studied  professions,  while  the  girls  went 
either  to  Wellesley  or  Smith,  and  were  sent,  too,  by 
a pastor  who  had  no  private  means.  Good  business 
instincts  he  had,  and  that  helped;  but  what  really 
enabled  him  to  give  his  children  an  education  was 
that  he  and  my  mother  were  willing  to  take  in  young 
Englishmen  as  boarders,  giving  them  a home  and  at 
the  same  time  receiving  payment,  so  as  to  let  their 
children  have  an  education.  On  that  he  laid  great 
stress,  saying  that  all  his  desire  was  to  give  us  an 
education  and  let  us  ‘shift  without  a penny.’  ” 

While  Dr.  Trumbull  was  working  so  hard  for  the 
people  of  Chile,  three  of  his  big,  merry  family  died 
within  a short  time  of  each  other  and  just  at  the  age 
when  they  were  beginning  to  be  of  greatest  use  in  the 
world.  The  oldest  son,  David,  a student  in  Yale 
School  of  Theology,  dived  from  a yacht  off  the  coast 
of  New  London,  in  an  effort  to  save  a boy’s  life. 
There  was  no  tender  or  small  boat  with  the  yacht,  and 
by  the  time  his  friends  were  able  to  tack  and  reach 
him  he  sank.  The  boy,  whom  he  held  up  with  his 
last  ounce  of  strength,  was  saved.  Mary  Trumbull 


200  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


died  a few  months  after  graduating  from  Wellesley, 
and  Stephen,  a physician,  died  of  yellow  fever  at  sea, 
on  the  way  to  Valparaiso. 

As  Dr.  Trumbull  grew  old  among  the  people  he 
had  learned  to  think  of  almost  as  his  own  countrymen, 
he  decided  to  adopt  the  country  where  he  had  lived 
and  worked  for  forty  years.  One  day  he  appeared 
before  the  proper  authorities  and  asked  for  the  privi- 
lege of  taking  out  naturalization  papers.  The  usual 
legal  proceedings  were  waived  in  his  case  and  the 
president  and  all  his  Chilean  friends  rejoiced  in  this 
proof  of  his  love  for  Chile.  There  was  no  doubt  of 
his  welcome.  One  friend  said : “Valparaiso  has  before 
felt  honored  in  claiming  him  as  the  most  worthy  and 
best  known  of  her  foreign  residents.  Now  we  regard 
him  as  a fellow  countryman  and  a true  brother.” 
When  some  of  his  American  friends  wrote  how  sur- 
prised and  disturbed  they  were  that  he  had  renounced 
his  American  citizenship  he  confessed  his  reason  for 
doing  it.  There  had  been  times,  during  the  long  years 
when  he  was  fighting  for  reforms,  that  everything 
seemed  utterly  hopeless.  Then  he  had  made  another 
vow  to  God.  If  ever  his  wishes  were  realized  and  the 
reforms  became  law,  he  would  express  his  gratitude 
by  becoming  a citizen  of  Chile.  He  had  kept  his  vow. 

But  a descendant  of  the  Aldens  must  always  have 
loved  America  best.  One  of  Dr.  Trumbull’s  friends 
says : “Surrounded  by  foreigners,  he  defended  his 
country  as  bravely  as  his  Continental  ancestors  did 
before  him.  No  Britisher,  even  in  friendly  jest,  could 


DAVID  TRUMBULL 


201 


speak  slightingly  of  the  States  and  escape  unwounded. 
Once  an  Englishman  at  his  table  remarked,  ‘I  never 
could  understand,  Doctor,  how  you  keep  that  picture 
on  your  wall,  and  in  such  a conspicuous  place,  too.’ 
The  picture  represented  the  Essex  in  Valparaiso  Bay, 
striking  her  colors  to  two  English  men-of-war.  With 
a smile,  and  in  his  dulcet  voice,  the  host  replied:  ‘I 
wouldn’t  take  anything  for  that  picture.  It’s  the  great- 
est curiosity  in  the  house ; for  it  is  the  only  instance  in 
history  where  an  American  vessel  ever  hauled  down 
her  flag  to  an  enemy.  Can  you  duplicate  that  in  Eng- 
lish history  ?’  ” 

On  a great  stone  in  the  cemetery  of  Valparaiso  is 
one  of  countless  tributes  from  his  best  friends,  the  peo- 
ple of  Chile: 


MEMORIAE  SACRUM 

The  Reverend 
David  Trumbull,  D.D. 

Founder  and  Minister  of  the  Union  Church,  Valparaiso 
Born  in  Elizabeth,  N.  J.,  ist  of  Nov.,  1819 
Died  in  Valparaiso,  ist  of  Feb.,  1889 

For  forty-three  years  he  gave  himself  to  unwearied  and 
successful  effort 

In  the  cause  of  evangelical  truth  and  religious  liberty  in 
this  country. 

As  a gifted  and  faithful  minister,  and  as  a friend  he 
was  honored  and 

Loved  by  foreign  residents  on  this  coast.  In  his  public 
life  he  was  the 

Counselor  of  statesmen,  the  supporter  of  every  good 
enterprise,  the 

Helper  of  the  poor,  and  the  consoler  of  the  afflicted. 

In  memory  of 

His  eminent  services,  fidelity,  charity  and  sympathy 
this  monument 

Has  been  raised  by  his  friends  in  this  community 
And  by  citizens  of  his  adopted  country. 


202  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 

One  of  Dr.  Trumbull’s  Yale  friends,  writing  an 
“In  Memoriam,”  says:  “Perhaps  never  among  any 
Spanish-speaking  people,  in  either  hemisphere,  has  an 
Anglo-Saxon,  or  a Protestant,  received  such  a testi- 
monial of  the  popular  respect.  . . . What  Livingstone 
did  for  Africa  was  done  for  South  America  by  David 
Trumbull.” 


FRANCISCO  PENZOTTI 


FRANCISCO  PEXZOTTI 


(Imprisoned  in  Callao,  Peru) 


FRANCISCO  PENZOTTI 


“Never  in  my  life  have  I fought  so  much  with 
priests  and  friars  as  in  these  last  months  . . . there 
hardly  passes  a night  when  I do  not  dream  of  being 
in  combat  with  them.”  These,  his  own  words,  tell  a 
common  experience  of  Senor  Francisco  Penzotti’s  life 
in  South  America  as  distributing  agent  of  the  American 
Bible  Society.  The  business  of  such  an  agent  is  to 
sell  Bibles  to  all  who  will  buy  them,  and  like  all  evan- 
gelical work  it  has  been  carried  on  in  the  face  of  the 
most  desperate  opposition  on  the  part  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  clergy,  who  control  the  religious  life  of  the 
State.  One  of  the  beliefs  of  the  Roman  Church  is 
that  the  Bible,  as  we  know  it,  should  not  be  placed  in 
the  hands  of  the  ignorant  because  they  will  misinter- 
pret its  teachings.  The  only  version  allowed  for  com- 
mon use  is  the  result  of  careful  pruning  and  editing 
by  the  papal  hierarchy,  believed  to  be  the  only  infallible 
authority. 

And  so,  when  the  agents  for  the  Bible  Society 
opened  Bible  shops,  and  canvassed  city  and  town  from 
door  to  door,  peddling  the  best  book  in  the  world,  not 
in  English — that  would  not  have  bothered  the  priests — 
but  in  Spanish,  the  people’s  own  language,  the  alarmed 
bishops  rose  up  in  their  pulpits  and  urged  that  all  unite 
in  their  efforts  to  crush  “these  monsters  of  heresy.” 

205 


20 6 MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


Ignorant,  fanatical,  warped  in  spirit  and  morals,  the 
majority  of  clergy  in  South  America  have  done  little 
credit  to  their  Church,  and  it  is  with  this  powerful 
priest  ring,  never  truly  representative  of  the  Catholic 
faith  at  its  best,  that  progressive  elements  have  con- 
tinually been  at  war.  The  dramatic  experiences  of 
Senor  Penzotti  first  held  up  for  ridicule  before  the 
eyes  of  the  whole  world  the  absurd  spectacle  of  four- 
teenth century  bigotry  lingering  on  at  the  end  of  the 
nineteenth. 

Penzotti  was  born  in  Italy  in  1851,  of  staunch 
Roman  Catholic  parents.  When  thirteen  years  old  he 
was  invited  by  relatives  to  go  with  them  to  South 
America.  It  seemed  to  his  boyish  imagination  like 
a fairyland  of  promise,  and  he  set  off  with  the  same 
high  hopes  that  bring  the  ambitious  immigrant  to 
New  York.  For  many  years  he  lived  in  Montevideo, 
capital  of  Uruguay,  passively  accepting  the  only 
religious  faith  he  knew  anything  about.  Then  one 
night — he  was  now  twenty-five  years  old — a friend 
proposed  in  an  idle  moment  that,  just  for  the  novelty 
of  it,  they  drop  in  at  a theater  where  a preaching 
service  was  to  be  held. 

“I  went  with  him  more  from  curiosity  than 
interest,”  Penzotti  said  afterward.  “We  entered  what 
had  been  a theater,  and  what  was  then  the  only  place 
of  preaching  the  gospel  in  the  city.  Later  the  house 
became  known  as  the  Thirty-third  Street  Temple  of 
the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  ...  I went  out 
from  there  that  night  profoundly  impressed.”  No 


FRANCISCO  PENZOTTI 


207 


Protestant  in  the  city  was  half  so  energetic  during  the 
next  few  weeks  in  attending  services  as  Penzotti.  His 
enthusiasm  and  his  talents  attracted  attention  and  he 
was  appointed  an  evangelist  of  the  little  embryo  church 
which  was  struggling  so  hard  to  make  a place  for  itself 
in  the  community.  “Naturally  I did  not  have  the  expe- 
rience at  that  time  which  I now  possess,”  he  says,  “but 
instead  I should  like  to  possess  to-day  the  zeal  and 
energy  of  those  times.” 

Arrangements  to  launch  the  work  of  Bible  dis- 
tribution in  the  northern  republics,  particularly 
Bolivia,  had  just  been  completed.  Penzotti  was  chosen 
to  accompany  Mr.  Andrew  Milne,  the  agent,  on  a pre- 
liminary trip  through  these  new  and  difficult  regions. 
The  last  man  who  had  dared  to  sell  Bibles  in  Bolivia 
had  been  murdered  and  thrown  into  the  river,  and  the 
exploring  party  received  due  warning  of  what  they 
might  expect : “Huge  mountains  bar  the  way  to  the 
circulation  of  God’s  word  there;  mountains  of  preju- 
dice and  obstacles,  that  are  only  equaled  by  the 
immense  Andes  themselves  for  altitude  and  difficulty, 
have  to  be  scaled  and  overcome.”  They  met  with 
unexpected  success,  however.  The  civil  authorities 
helped  them;  the  people,  when  not  too  much  afraid 
of  the  priests,  were  eager  to  hear  the  preaching  and 
read  the  Book;  and  in  a few  months  over  5,000  Bibles 
were  sold. 

The  next  year  Penzotti  was  put  in  charge  of  the 
campaign.  Traveling  in  Bolivia  in  those  days  meant 
riding  on  mule-back  over  abominable  roads  or  no  roads 


208  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


at  all.  There  were  no  inns;  no  hospitable  friends 
waiting  to  welcome  him;  often  nothing  but  the  bare 
ground  to  sleep  on  after  a hard  day;  and  no  extra 
money  for  comforts  of  any  kind.  But  there  were  no 
monotonous  moments  in  that  adventurous  trip  of 
Penzotti’s.  The  unexpected  always  lay  in  wait  around 
the  next  corner.  In  one  of  his  audiences  he  was  sur- 
prised to  see  a number  of  priests  who  listened  with 
courteous  attention  to  all  he  had  to  say.  After  the 
service  they  hastened  forward  to  shake  hands  and  con- 
gratulate him  on  his  eloquence.  They  had  come  to 
propose  that  he  return  to  the  Catholic  fold,  and  as  a 
special  inducement  they  promised  that  he  should  be 
an  ordained  priest  in  a year’s  time.  In  the  next  city 
he  was  given  the  municipal  hall  for  his  meetings  and 
people  crowded  to  hear  him.  When  the  priest  heard 
of  this  he  sent  all  the  boys  he  could  muster,  armed  with 
rockets  and  tin  horns,  to  interrupt  the  meeting,  and  for 
a few  minutes  it  was  a hand-to-hand  fight  until  the 
rowdies  were  driven  away. 

The  worst  hornet’s  nest  of  all  was  the  city  of  Cocha- 
bamba. At  first  Penzotti  made  good  sales,  but  as 
soon  as  the  priests  discovered  what  was  going  on, 
trouble  began.  The  bishop,  whose  slightest  word  car- 
ried great  weight,  circulated  a warning  among  the 
people  against  this  “mutilated,  adulterated  and  false” 
Bible.  Penzotti  managed  such  situations  with  a high 
hand.  He  took  his  Bible  and  a copy  of  the  warning 
and  proceeded  to  the  bishop’s  house.  He  always  liked 
to  have  it  out  face  to  face  with  the  priests.  “As  he 


FRANCISCO  PENZOTTI 


209 


did  not  know  me,  he  gave  me  an  entrance  into  his 
study,”  Penzotti  tells  the  story.  “Once  there  I told 
him  that  I was  the  one  who  had  introduced  the  Bible 
which  he  was  calling  false.  I put  one  of  my  Bibles 
in  his  hand  and  said  to  him : ‘Be  so  kind  as  to  prove 
what  you  have  said,  since,  if  you  do  not,  I have  the 
right  to  accuse  you  of  libel  before  competent  author- 
ities.’ It  seemed  to  me  that  he  was  more  frightened 
than  I should  have  been  able  to  be.  If  he  had  been 
another  kind  of  man  he  would  have  had  the  people 
after  me,  and  there  would  not  have  remained  any  more 
than  my  ashes !”  But  the  bishop  carelessly  flipped  over 
the  pages  and  remarked  profoundly  that  these  might 
be  the  very  best  of  books,  yet  since  they  were  not 
approved  by  the  Church  he  had  a papal  order  not  to 
admit  them. 

By  this  time  the  harm  was  done  and  the  whole  city 
grew  threatening.  Five  hundred  women  belonging 
to  a sacred  order  hurried  from  house  to  house  to 
warn  families  not  to  buy  Bibles  under  pain  of  excom- 
munication. Priests  trailed  Penzotti  wherever  he 
went,  crying:  “Here  comes  the  heretic!  Beware!” 
A bonfire  in  a public  square  meant  that  his  wares 
were  being  disposed  of  in  the  priests’  own  favorite 
fashion.  “I  went  on  with  my  work  as  before,”  he 
writes,  “going  from  door  to  door,  but  in  vain;  there 
was  not  a living  soul  that  did  not  know,  and  the  sale 
stopped  entirely.  Indeed  I had  much  to  do  to  resist 
the  return  of  the  books  already  sold,  and  had  it  not 
been  for  the  protection  of  the  authorities  I don’t 


2io  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


know  how  it  might  have  fared  with  me.  Several 
warned  me  that  I ought  to  withdraw,  as  my  life  was 
in  danger.” 

Penzotti  always  has  a ready  answer  for  priestly 
sallies.  Once  when  he  caught  a priest  in  the  act  of 
twisting  the  meaning  of  a Bible  verse,  he  publicly 
exposed  the  fraud.  “Let  me  tell  you  that  though  you 
have  the  best  of  me  this  time,”  said  the  priest  furiously, 
“this  same  Book  says  that  the  gates  of  hell  shall  not 
prevail.” 

“Much  less  the  gates  of  the  Vatican,”  returned  Pen- 
zotti. 

During  his  travels  Penzotti  found  that  the  terrible 
poverty  of  the  people  was  often  a hindrance  to  the 
sales.  Sometimes  a fifty-cent  Bible  would  be  paid  for 
in  several  installments.  He  frequently  distributed 
books  on  approval.  One  old  lady  who  had  the  rare 
opportunity  of  comparing  her  Romish  Bible  with  the 
priest’s  own  Bible,  was  greatly  astonished  to  find  the 
latter  just  like  the  Bible  the  dreadful  stranger  had 
left  at  her  door.  When  she  came  upon  the  second 
commandment,  she  exclaimed : “To  think  that  this 
should  be  here  and  the  padre  not  teach  it  to  us!  He 
must  be  deceiving  us  in  other  things,  too ; I shall  learn 
for  myself.”  She  kept  her  new  Bible. 

“After  I left  Cochabamba,”  Penzotti  reported,  “sev- 
eral persons  rushed  into  print,  each  one  giving  my 
ears  a pull,  but  withal  I have  no  doubt  it  will  in  the 
end  contribute  to  the  furtherance  of  the  work.”  It 
did.  As  often  happens,  opposition  makes  fine  adver- 


FRANCISCO  PENZOTTI 


21 1 


tising,  and  the  fame  of  Penzotti  and  his  book  spread 
far  and  wide. 

From  Bolivia  he  crossed  over  into  Chile,  a difficult 
journey  over  the  mountains.  “You  have  to  cross  at  a 
height  of  18,000  feet,”  he  wrote,  “where  there  are  no 
living  beings  nor  vegetation  of  any  kind.  The  only 
indication  of  the  way  is  the  line  of  white  dry  bones 
of  beasts  of  burden  and  travelers  killed  in  snow 
storms.”  In  the  Chilean  towns  he  was  well  received 
and  preached  to  large  audiences  who  usually  gathered 
in  the  town  hall  or  a theater.  From  one  town  he 
reported : “Mr.  Milne  was  here  last  year  and  sold  so 
many  Bibles  that  most  people  have  them.  As  a result, 
there  is  a greater  demand  now  for  other  instructive 
books  of  which  we  have  only  a limited  supply.”  At 
the  end  of  thirteen  months  of  constant  preaching,  can- 
vassing and  traveling  Penzotti  returned  to  Montevideo. 
In  all  this  time  not  a line  from  his  family  or  friends 
had  reached  him  because,  as  he  said,  “in  the  places 
where  I visited  and  was  persecuted,  one  of  the  forms 
which  the  persecution  took  was  the  capturing  of  my 
correspondence.” 

Penzotti  tells  the  story  of  a little  colony  of  enthusi- 
astic Protestants  which  sprang  up  all  by  itself  in  one 
Chilean  town : “A  little  more  than  a half  century  ago 
this  place  was  destroyed  by  a tidal  wave.  When  the 
waters  retired  the  people  went  to  remove  the  ruins  in 
search  of  what  they  could  find.  One  man  found,  below 
a strata  of  sand  and  mud,  a book.  For  curiosity’s  sake 
he  carried  it  to  his  house,  where  he  cleaned  it  and  put 


212  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


it  out  to  dry.  It  happened  to  be  a New  Testament.  It 
was  a book  unknown  to  him,  so  he  read  it  to  see  what 
it  was  all  about.  Various  neighbors  gathered  to  listen 
to  the  reading  of  the  marvelous  book,  and  when  I 
visited  this  place  I found  the  man  at  the  head  of  an 
interesting  group  of  people,  all  converted  by  that  book 
dug  out  from  the  mud.” 

Because  of  his  rare  gifts  as  a Bible  salesman,  Pen- 
zotti  was  appointed  agent  for  the  Pacific  coast  by  the 
American  Bible  Society  in  1887,  the  year  after  his 
trip  through  the  north.  “He  is  one  to  go  forward 
where  others  turn  back,”  it  was  said  of  him,  “and  he 
not  only  understands  his  work  but  loves  it.”  So  they 
gave  him  the  most  important  and  difficult  field  of  all, 
Peru.  With  his  family  he  went  to  Callao  to  live 
and  there  in  the  heart  of  the  enemies’  country  he 
tackled  the  problem  of  religious  freedom  single-handed. 

“Very  little  had  been  done  with  the  Bible,”  he  says, 
“and  the  gospel  had  never  been  preached  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  country.  My  first  care  was  hunting  a 
place  where  I could  preach  to  the  people.  Then  I 
went  from  door  to  door  with  the  Bible,  reading  to  the 
people,  explaining  it  to  them,  and  inviting  them  to 
attend  the  meetings. 

“My  first  audience  consisted  of  two  people  besides 
ourselves.  The  following  Sunday  four  people  came; 
the  next  ten;  then  we  went  up  to  twenty;  after  that, 
to  forty,  fifty,  sixty,  eighty,  until  the  hall  could  hold 
no  more,  and  the  problem  of  hunting  a larger  place 
presented  itself.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  we  were 


FRANCISCO  PENZOTTI  213 

\ 

able  to  find  anything,  and  then  what  we  found  was 
in  such  poor  condition  that  with  our  own  hands  we 
had  to  fix  the  ceiling,  floor,  lights,  and  make  benches 
and  other  necessary  furniture.  Many  of  those  who 
were  interested  came  every  night  to  get  it  ready.  At 
the  same  time  I had  to  raise  funds  for  the  rent  and  to 
buy  materials.” 

From  pulpit  and  press  attacks  came  thick  and  fast, 
and  the  civil  authorities,  wishing  to  keep  their  popu- 
larity with  the  ruling  class,  did  little  to  stop  outbreaks 
of  violence  in  the  streets.  One  city  official  at  least  was 
not  afraid  to  express  his  opinion.  The  clergy  brought 
him  a petition  demanding  the  banishment  of  Senor 
Penzotti.  He  told  them  he  would  attend  a meeting 
and  see  for  himself  what  terrible  harm  there  was  in 
it.  He  liked  it.  When  the  priests  called  next  day  he 
said  to  them : “What  do  you  wish  to  do  to  the  gentle- 
man anyway?  He  preaches  the  truth  and  that  is  pre- 
cisely the  thing  we  need.” 

Among  other  little  tricks,  the  ingenious  priests  sold 
thin  paper  images  of  the  Virgin  for  which  they  claimed 
miraculous  powers.  Whenever  a foreigner  carrying 
a valise  came  into  sight,  this  figure  must  be  rolled  into 
a pill  and  swallowed  as  a means  of  protection  against 
the  impending  evil ! Processions  formed  and  marched 
past  Penzotti’s  house  shouting:  “Long  live  the  Apos- 
tolic Roman  Catholic  religion!”  and  “Death  to  Pen- 
zotti ! Down  with  the  Protestants !”  Showers  of 
stones  and  mud  were  thrown  at  the  house  and  insult- 
ing epithets  were  chalked  on  its  walls.  Crowds  of 


214  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


men,  and  even  women,  would  gather  in  front  of  the 
old  warehouse  used  for  the  services,  and  lie  in  wait 
to  molest  any  one  who  went  in  or  out.  The  keyhole 
was  so  often  stopped  up  with  pebbles  that  a padlock 
finally  had  to  be  put  on  the  inside  of  the  door.  One 
night  a priest  fastened  on  a padlock  of  his  own  and 
locked  in  the  whole  audience.  Then  he  crossed  to  the 
sidewalk  opposite  to  watch  what  happened. 

“There  was  no  other  way  of  getting  out  than  by 
that  door,"  says  Penzotti.  “There  were  a number  of 
windows  but  they  were  very  high  and  had  gratings. 
One  of  the  brothers  did  not  come  to  the  meeting  that 
night.  About  nine  o’clock  he  felt  a desire  to  come, 
but  said  to  himself : ‘It  is  very  late ; the  meeting  will 
be  over  now.’  Yet  it  seemed  that  something  told  him 
to  go  to  the  hall;  and  so  he  just  put  on  his  hat  and 
came.  On  reaching  the  door  he  heard  us  singing  a 
hymn.  He  wanted  to  come  in  but  the  door  was  locked 
with  a padlock  on  the  outside.  He  could  not  imagine 
what  had  happened,  and  then  the  thought  came : ‘Some 
enemy  has  done  this!’  Feeling  around  in  his  pocket 
he  discovered  a key  that  unlocked  the  padlock.  He 
opened  the  door.  The  priest  who  was  observing  on 
the  opposite  sidewalk,  lifted  his  hands  to  his  head 
exclaiming:  ‘These  heretics  have  the  devil’s  own  pro- 
tection !’  ” 

Penzotti  had  been  particularly  warned  to  keep  away 
from  Arequipa,  the  most  Catholic  city  in  the  whole 
country.  Sure  enough,  he  had  been  there  only  a few 
hours  when  his  arrest  was  ordered  by  an  influential! 


FRANCISCO  PENZOTTI 


215 


bishop,  he  was  clapped  into  jail  on  the  charge  of  selling 
corrupt  literature,  and  his  boxes  of  books  confiscated. 
During  nineteen  days  of  imprisonment  Penzotti  made 
friends  among  the  other  prisoners  and  held  services 
for  them.  They  seemed  to  like  what  they  heard,  espe- 
cially the  inspector  who  had  arrested  him  at  the 
mayor’s  command.  When  the  order  for  his  release 
came  from  the  president  at  Lima,  Penzotti  found  the 
beaming  inspector  waiting  at  the  prison  door  to  con- 
gratulate him  and  invite  him  home  to  breakfast. 

A few  months  later,  in  July,  1890,  Penzotti  was 
arrested  and  imprisoned  in  Callao  without  bail.  The 
article  of  the  Peruvian  constitution  which  he  was 
accused  before  the  court  of  crimes  of  violating  was 
this:  “The  State  professes  and  protects  the  Apos- 
tolic Roman  Catholic  religion,  excluding  all  other 
public  worship.”  As  a matter  of  fact  Penzotti  had 
taken  great  pains  beforehand  to  understand  this  law 
and  act  within  his  rights;  for  he  had  been  told  by  the 
Peruvian  minister  of  justice,  through  the  United 
States  legation:  “You  can  do  whatever  the  constitu- 
tion allows  and  nothing  that  it  forbids.”  A service  of 
worship,  to  be  considered  “private,”  had  to  be  held  in 
an  orderly  manner,  with  closed  doors,  and  no  one 
admitted  except  by  tickets  obtained  in  advance.  These 
requirements  had  been  scrupulously  met.  For  seventy 
years  the  Church  of  England  in  Peru  had  held  services 
in  English  and  met  with  no  opposition;  while  on  the 
same  block  with  Penzotti’s  warehouse,  the  Chinese 
population  peacefully  worshiped  in  their  joss  house. 


2 1 6 MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


The  whole  situation  was  just  this : the  Roman  Church 
would  not  tolerate  Protestant  preaching  in  the  Spanish 
language. 

“The  plan  of  my  enemies  in  placing  me  in  an 
unbearable  cell,”  said  Penzotti,  “was  that  I might  die 
in  it,  or  solicit  liberty  on  condition  that  I leave  the 
country.  When  I had  been  in  prison  forty  days  my 
wife  went  to  Lima  to  talk  things  over  with  a represen- 
tative of  a foreign  government  to  see  if  he  could  do 
anything.  He  replied : ‘I  believe  I could  do  something 
at  once  to  secure  his  liberty  on  condition  that  he  goes 
directly  on  board  ship  and  leaves  the  country.’  My 
wife  said  to  him : ‘Mr.  Consul,  we  have  come  to  remain 
in  Peru,  and  it  has  not  entered  our  minds  to  leave  it.’  ” 

In  his  broken  English  Penzotti  wrote  to  the  Bible 
Society  in  New  York:  “To-day  is  sixteen  days  I am 
shut  in  the  prison  with  the  criminal  people.  The  Cath- 
olic people  are  doing  very  much  to  make  our  work 
stop,  but  for  all  that  I can  see,  they  are  lighting  more 
the  fire  and  doing  the  work  good. 

“In  Peru  the  people  are  thinking  of  asking  the  gov- 
ernment to  grant  them  liberty  of  worship  and  the  presi- 
dent is  going  to  do  all  he  can  for  it.  Many  distin- 
guished people  from  the  capital  come  to  see  me  in  my 
prison  and  want  me  to  explain  the  Bible,  and  have 
much  love  for  our  work.  The  alcalde  told  me  I am 
gaining  more  in  these  days  of  prison  than  in  ten  years 
of  work.  I am  doing  what  I can  with  the  prisoners. 
They  have  made  a petition  for  me  to  preach  to  them 
Sundays.” 


FRANCISCO  PENZOTTI 


217 


It  was  in  a dark,  damp,  underground  dungeon  that 
the  priests  had  landed  their  quarry  while  they  tried  to 
prove  that  holding  religious  services  for  a handful  of 
Protestants  in  a private  room  was  illegal.  This  dun- 
geon was  an  arched  place  built  into  the  side  of  a hill, 
and  had  been  used  in  the  days  of  the  Spaniards  for  a 
gun-powder  vault.  Now  that  it  was  occupied  by 
human  beings  the  people  called  it  Casas  Matas,  or 
“The  House  that  Kills.”  Penzotti  found  written  on 
the  wall  of  his  cell  a little  Spanish  verse.  In  English 
it  is  this: 

“Cell  of  my  sorrows, 

Grave  of  living  men; 

More  terrible  than  death, 

Severer  far  than  fetters.” 

The  worst  criminals  in  the  State  were  kept  here,  any 
one  of  whom  “would  willingly  have  stuck  a knife  into 
him  for  $5  and  a promise  of  freedom.”  Meals  con- 
sisted entirely  of  raw  peas  and  parboiled  rice.  The 
governor  of  the  prison  liked  Penzotti  and  allowed  him 
to  receive  visitors  who  often  brought  him  food. 
Through  them  he  continued  to  direct  his  work. 

“My  family  and  my  congregation  were  also  perse- 
cuted,” he  wrote.  “However,  they  were  not  annihil- 
ated, but  went  on  with  the  work  without  missing  a 
single  service  during  those  months  that  I remained  in 
prison.” 

The  lawsuit  dragged  along  as  slowly  as  the  priests 
could  make  it.  Three  times  Penzotti  was  acquitted, 
and  the  case  taken  to  a higher  court.  On  the  obsolete 


218  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


principle  that  a man  is  guilty  until  he  can  prove  his 
innocence  he  was  paying  the  penalty  for  what  he  had 
not  done.  Excitement  over  the  case  spread  through 
the  whole  country.  In  Lima  2,000  people,  among 
them  the  leading  citizens  of  the  city,  held  a mass  meet- 
ing to  agitate  the  question  of  religious  liberty.  The 
press  and  all  liberal  elements  were  roused  in  his  favor, 
and  when  even  political  pressure  had  failed  to  free 
him,  loud  were  the  demands  for  a change  in  the  consti- 
tution. So  great  was  the  popular  interest  in  Penzotti’s 
predicament  that  merchants  referred  to  it  in  their 
business  advertisements : 

THE  PENZOTTI  QUESTION 

Rice  and  Cocoa  at  Reasonable  Prices. 

For  Sale  at  Blank’s 

On  walls  and  sidewalks  enthusiastic  citizens  ex- 
pressed their  sentiments  in  chalk.  Some  of  these  signs 
read : “Death  to  Penzotti ! Down  with  all  Protes- 
tants!” Others  said:  “Hurrah  for  Penzotti!  Down 
with  the  priests!”  Whenever  the  Penzotti  children 
left  the  house  they  were  followed  by  jeering  mobs,  and 
it  became  necessary  to  send  the  two  oldest  daughters 
to  Santiago  to  school,  so  great  was  the  danger  and 
humiliation  of  their  position  in  Callao. 

Then  help  came  from  an  unexpected  quarter.  A 
prominent  New  York  mining  engineer,  Mr.  E.  E. 
Olcott,  had  been  making  a tour  of  the  desolate  min- 


FRANCISCO  PENZOTTI 


219 


ing  regions  of  Peru.  One  Sunday  morning  just  after 
he  had  returned  to  Lima  from  the  wilderness,  he  saw  a 
clipping  from  a New  York  paper  saying  that  a Protes- 
tant missionary  was  confined  in  a Callao  jail.  He  gave 
the  item  little  thought,  believing  it  to  be  merely  news- 
paper talk.  But  after  attending  service  at  the  little 
Episcopal  church,  he  dropped  in  at  the  English  Club 
to  make  inquiries  from  his  acquaintances  there. 

“Any  truth  in  that  statement?  Well,  I should  say 
so !”  he  was  told.  “You’re  a nice  Christian  to  be  going 
to  church  this  morning!  You  ought  to  be  doing  some- 
thing to  get  this  man  out  of  jail.  Come  down  on  the 
one  o’clock  train  to  Callao  with  me,  and  you’ll  have  a 
chance  to  see  for  yourself.” 

That  afternoon  Mr.  Olcott  found  Senor  Penzotti 
out  in  the  courtyard  of  the  prison,  surrounded  by 
friends  from  his  congregation.  One  woman  who  was 
there  said  to  Mr.  Olcott:  “Oh,  we  must  get  him  out 
from  here.  He  is  the  first  one  who  ever  told  me  I 
could  go  directly  to  my  Savior  and  talk  things  over. 
I always  thought  I had  to  go  to  the  padre.” 

“Show  me  where  you  sleep,”  Mr.  Olcott  asked  him. 
“They  say  that  it’s  pretty  hard.”  It  was  one  large 
room,  unlighted  and  unaired.  At  night  the  165 
prisoners,  men  and  women,  some  of  them  murderers, 
were  all  huddled  in  there  together  to  sleep  as  best  they 
could  on  the  damp  floor. 

“I’m  going  to  send  my  photographer  down  here  to- 
morrow,” said  Mr.  Olcott  when  he  was  leaving.  This 
was  before  the  day  of  the  kodak  and  snapshot. 


220  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


“You  can’t  get  a picture  without  permission,  and 
they  will  never  give  you  permission,”  Penzotti  told 
him. 

It  was  two  days  before  Mr.  Olcott  had  to  sail  for 
New  York.  He  went  back  to  Lima  and  said  to  his 
young  assistant : “I  want  you  to  go  over  to  Callao  to- 
morrow and  take  photographs  of  the  cathedral  and 
the  post-office  and  the  custom-house  and  the  city  hall. 
Then  go  down  to  the  jail  and  find  a prisoner  there  with 
a long,  bushy  black  beard,  named  Penzotti.  Get  him 
to  show  you  where  he  sleeps.  When  he  goes  inside, 
you  stay  outside  and  push  the  door  shut.  He’ll  look 
out  of  the  window  to  see  what’s  become  of  you.  Then 
take  a picture  of  him  looking  through  the  bars.” 

The  next  night  the  boy  returned  pale  and  trembling 
and  so  excited  he  could  hardly  tell  what  had  happened. 
“They  almost  kept  me  in  the  jail  too,”  he  said.  “I’d 
just  taken  the  picture  when  a guard  rushed  down  and 
wanted  to  know  what  I was  doing.  I told  him  I’d  only 
just  arrived,  and  I got  away  with  the  plates,  but  the 
police  are  after  me !” 

They  set  to  work  at  once  to  develop  the  pictures. 
The  plates  were  put  to  dry  in  an  air  bath  and  a little 
later  Mr.  Olcott  came  in  with  a lighted  candle  to  see 
if  they  were  behaving  properly.  A loud  explosion  fol- 
lowed. With  his  hair  and  eyebrows  badly  singed  Mr. 
Olcott  hastened  to  examine  the  oven,  expecting  to  find 
his  plates  destroyed.  But  the  explosion,  it  proved,  had 
been  in  the  lower  part,  and  there  on  the  top  shelf  sat 
the  plates  uninjured.  The  next  day  they  were  smug- 


FRANCISCO  PENZOTTI 


221 


gled  on  board  the  steamer  and  hidden  under  the  pillow 
in  Mr.  Olcott’s  stateroom. 

The  picture  of  Penzotti  gazing  from  the  prison  win- 
dow was  published  in  the  New  York  Herald  with  an 
article  which  caused  extensive  comment.  Other  influ- 
ential people  became  interested,  and  diplomatic  pres- 
sure was  brought  to  bear.  On  the  same  day  cable- 
grams from  the  Court  of  St.  James  and  Washington 
reached  Lima.  “A  taste  of  feudalism  like  this,”  said 
an  editorial  in  the  Herald,  “gives  us  a new  and  strange 
sensation.  When  the  Pope  declares  himself  in  favor 
of  religious  liberty  it  seems  odd  for  one  of  the  South 
American  States,  and  that  a Republic,  to  hang  back. 
But  we  haven’t  any  doubt  that  Peru  will  pull  herself 
together  and  see  that  the  stigma  of  imprisonment  for 
religion’s  sake  is  wiped  out.” 

“It  is  no  longer  Penzotti,  a prisoner  before  the  whole 
world,”  people  said,  “it  is  Peru  which  is  a prisoner  in 
the  hands  of  the  clergy.” 

Just  three  weeks  after  Mr.  Olcott  reached  New  York 
Penzotti  was  released  from  “The  House  that  Kills.” 
Years  after  the  two  men  met  in  Panama  when  Pen- 
zotti embraced  Mr.  Olcott  in  true  South  American 
fashion  and  greeted  him  as  "Mi  Salvador 

“I  left  the  prison  at  five  o’clock  in  the  afternoon, 
accompanied  by  a great  number  of  people  who  sur- 
rounded and  congratulated  me.  On  the  following 
Sunday  the  church  was  packed  with^people  until  there 
wasn’t  even  room  for  a pin.  From  that  time  the  work 
continued  to  grow  without  many  persecutions  or  diffi- 


222  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


culties.”  The  record  of  Bibles  sold  in  Peru  showed 
one  result  of  the  impetus  which  publicity  gave  the 
work:  in  1892,  18,000  more  were  sold  than  in  1891. 

After  his  acquittal  Senor  Penzotti  called  at  the 
headquarters  of  the  foreign  legations  in  Lima.  In  a 
newspaper  next  day,  one  of  the  officials  said  this  of 
him:  “We  were  able  to  appreciate  for  ourselves  the 
magnanimity  which  characterizes  him.  Not  a single 
word  of  reproach  fell  from  his  lips,  nor  a single  com- 
plaint against  his  persecutors.” 

He  started  at  once  on  a trip  down  the  coast  to 
superintend  the  work  of  the  Bible  Society.  That  was 
Penzotti’s  way  of  taking  a much-needed  vacation. 

The  next  year  he  was  appointed  agent  for  Central 
America  and  the  Isthmus  of  Panama,  and  since  1908 
he  has  superintended  the  work  of  the  River  Plate 
republics.  His  successor  in  Peru,  Dr.  Thomas  B. 
Wood,  wrote:  “The  work  that  Penzotti  has  accom- 
plished in  Peru  as  a founder  and  pioneer  is  a success 
that  not  many  can  gainsay.  The  way  seems  open  to 
go  up  and  possess  the  whole  land.”  In  November, 
1915,  the  Roman  Catholic  clause  of  the  constitution 
was  struck  out,  and  to-day  any  form  of  worship  is 
legal. 

“Now,  on  going  to  Peru,”  says  Penzotti,  “all  doors 
are  open  to  me  except  the  prison  doors,  thanks  to  God.” 


w.  BARBROOKE  GRUBB 


1 


W.  BARBROOKE  GRUBB 


W.  BARBROOKE  GRUBB 


The  little  Republic  of  Paraguay  is  cut  in  two  by 
the  River  Paraguay.  Along  the  eastern  bank  are 
rows  of  towns  twinkling  with  electric  lights  at  night 
time;  across  the  river  dark  forests  loom  against  the 
sky,  and  a lonely  Indian  camp-fire  shines  through  the 
trees.  On  one  side,  the  river  steamers  dock  at  busy 
wharves;  on  the  other,  gourds  are  rattling,  and  In- 
dians chant  weird  songs.  The  civilized  and  the  primi- 
tive are  there  side  by  side,  with  only  the  river  between 
them. 

The  western  section  of  Paraguay  is  a rank  wilder- 
ness of  swamps,  thickets,  and  big  trees,  one  of  the 
most  grewsome  places  in  the  world  to  travel  about  in. 
It  is  a part  of  El  Gran  Chaco,  a desolate  country  of 
200,000  square  miles  which  extends  dowrn  into  northern 
Argentina.  Horror  and  mystery  still  cling  to  the  name 
Chaco — a name  to  conjure  evil  spirits  with,  the  Para- 
guayans think.  When  expeditions  used  to  appear 
there,  bent  on  capturing  slaves  or  subduing  wild 
tribes,  the  natives  would  scurry  out  of  the  way  like 
frightened  animals;  then  slyly  emerge  from  their 
hiding-places  and  murder  their  pursuers.  Even  the 
Jesuits,  with  their  genius  for  putting  a civilized  finish 
on  savages,  never  made  any  headway  with  the  Chaco 

225 


226  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


Indians.  A trip  into  their  territory  was  once  an  ad- 
venture that  few  men  lived  to  repeat,  even  though 
their  errand  was  nothing  more  objectionable  than  sur- 
veying the  land  or  collecting  flower  specimens. 

The  government  once  cared  nothing  for  its  Indian 
residents,  and  they  had  no  share  in  the  fortunes  of  the 
country.  When  Paraguay  went  to  war  they  enjoyed 
it  mightily.  Said  one  old  chief : “We  heard  firing  and 
knew  war  was  going  on.  We  could  not  understand 
Christians  killing  each  other — we  only  kill  enemies; 
we  never  fight  with  members  of  our  own  tribe.  We 
crossed  over  in  our  canoes  at  night  to  see  what  was 
the  matter.  We  entered  a house — no  one  there.  We 
saw  some  cattle — no  one  in  charge.  We  took  all  we 
could  carry.  The  cattle  we  could  not  get  to  cross  the 
river,  so  we  killed  all  we  could  and  took  the  meat.  We 
continued  to  do  this  night  after  night.  By  day  we 
feasted,  by  night  we  robbed.  What  a fine  time  we 
had!  We  wish  the  Christians  would  fight  again.” 

In  1890  the  South  American  Missionary  Society — 
Allen  Gardiner’s  Society — sent  W.  Barbrooke  Grubb, 
then  twenty-three  years  old,  to  explore  and  open  up 
the  country  of  the  Lengua-Mascoy  Indians,  one  of 
the  two  largest  tribes  living  in  the  Paraguayan  Chaco. 
The  easiest  thing  for  Grubb  to  do  was  to  settle  down 
near  the  river  and  civilization,  and  by  making  friends 
of  the  coast  Indians  gradually  learn  the  customs  and 
language  of  the  tribe.  Instead  of  this  he  decided  to 
burn  all  his  bridges  behind  him  and  strike  right  into 
the  heart  of  the  Chaco,  where  he  could  live  among  the 


W.  BARBROOKE  GRUBB 


227 


people  in  their  own  wild,  native  haunts.  No  half-way 
measures  appealed  to  Grubb.  First  he  set  out  in  a 
steam  launch  to  see  if  the  interior  could  be  reached  by 
water.  He  found  that  every  stream  was  blocked  by 
masses  of  reeds  and  rushes,  and  it  was  impossible  for 
the  little  boat  to  nose  her  way  through  the  tangle. 
Canoeing  was  particularly  dangerous.  For  instance, 
“when  attempting  to  land  on  a bank  where  an  old 
alligator  was  sitting,  it  ran  at  the  canoe  open-mouthed, 
and  our  missionary  planted  his  paddle  in  its  mouth. 
This  it  crunched  up  like  matchwood.  He  then  gave 
it  a piece  of  hard  iron  to  chew,  upon  which  it  could 
make  but  little  impression.  While  it  firmly  held  the 
bar  of  iron  in  its  mouth,  Grubb  jumped  ashore  and 
dispatched  it  with  an  ax.” 

So  it  was  on  foot  and  on  horseback  that  Grubb 
pushed  into  the  interior  over  the  same  wild  trails 
where  many  a large  party,  heavily  armed,  had  been 
assassinated  by  the  Indians.  People  were  horrified  to 
learn  that  he  had  gone  without  guards  or  weapons, 
and  with  only  a few  unreliable  river  Indians  for 
guides.  “He  hasn’t  a chance  in  a thousand,”  they 
said,  and  three  times  during  his  first  expedition  his 
death  was  reported.  Once  he  had  to  paddle  all  night 
to  reach  a point  where  he  could  send  word  to  the  au- 
thorities that  he  was  very  much  alive  and  not  anxious 
to  have  an  announcement  of  his  murder  sent  home  to 
his  friends.  He  had  already  worked  for  four  years 
among  the  savages  of  Tierra  del  Fuego,  and  the  ex- 
perience had  taught  him  much.  It  was  his  policy  to 


228  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


travel  unprotected  to  show  his  friendliness  and  to 
prove  that  he  had  no  fear;  and  he  never  admitted 
weakness  by  asking  help  from  any  chief,  or  by  bribing 
the  Indians  with  presents.  To  assume  at  all  times 
and  under  all  circumstances  a dignified  authority — 
that  was  Grubb’s  working  plan. 

On  his  first  long  trip  he  took  five  very  reluctant 
Indian  guides.  Just  as  he  arrived  at  an  isolated  vil- 
lage named  Kilmesakthlapomap,  “the  place  of  burnt 
pigs,”  they  refused  to  go  on,  fearful  lest  they  be  killed 
along  with  the  foreigner.  This  left  him  stranded  in 
a strange  place,  but  instead  of  bargaining  with  them 
to  stay  he  dismissed  them  curtly,  and  prepared  to  camp 
for  the  night.  With  a few  words  and  many  gestures 
he  ordered  one  of  the  village  Indians  to  water  his 
horse,  another  to  fill  his  kettle.  “Beckoning  to  a 
woman,”  he  says,  “I  pointed  to  a shady  tree  near  by, 
and,  sitting  down  upon  the  ground,  gave  her  to  under- 
stand that  I would  camp  under  that  tree,  and  pointing 
to  a fire  I told  her  to  take  it  and  place  it  there  for  my 
convenience.  I then  walked  around  the  village,  beat- 
ing off  the  dogs  with  my  whip,  and  selected  a piece 
of  pumpkin  here  and  a few  potatoes  there.  These  I 
gave  to  a man,  and  signed  to  him  to  put  them  under 
the  tree  where  I intended  to  camp.  By  this  time  my 
horse  had  been  brought  back,  so  I unsaddled  it,  and 
then  gave  the  lad  instructions  as  well  as  I could  to 
let  it  loose  and  to  look  after  it.”  Finally  he  made  up 
a bed  on  top  of  his  baggage  and  went  to  sleep. 

The  Indians  were  so  astonished  at  the  fearlessness 


W.  BARBROOKE  GRUBB 


229 


of  their  visitor  that  they  forgot  to  be  suspicious.  This 
must  be  a great  white  chief  who  knew  perhaps  even 
more  wonderful  things  than  their  own  wizards  and 
witch-doctors.  They  decided  to  find  out  how  easy  it 
would  be  to  take  advantage  of  him.  In  the  middle  of 
the  night  two  of  them  stole  toward  his  camp,  and 
began  to  extract  bits  of  his  property  from  the  pile  on 
which  he  was  sleeping.  All  was  breathlessly  still. 
Then  right  in  their  ears  sounded  the  biggest  war- 
whoop  Grubb  knew  how  to  make,  and  utterly  terrified, 
they  vanished  in  the  darkness.  The  rest  of  the  night 
he  spent  in  peace. 

Next  morning  Grubb  sent  for  the  chief  of  the  village 
and  told  him  he  wanted  guides,  the  salary  to  be  a pair 
of  cotton  trousers  for  each  man.  The  only  Indian  to 
volunteer  was  a witch-doctor  who  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  of  owning  a pair  of  white  trousers  with 
a British  lion  and  “30  yds.  Manchester”  stamped  in 
blue  ink  on  one  leg. 

On  returning  to  Villa  Concepcion,  his  base  of  sup- 
plies, Grubb  heard  that  the  station  of  an  English  land 
company  had  been  looted  by  a party  of  Indians.  Peo- 
ple laughed  at  him  when  he  said  he  was  going  into  the 
wilderness  to  catch  the  thieves  and  make  them  pay  for 
all  they  had  taken.  He  rode  eighteen  miles  on  the 
same  horse  with  an  old  Indian  who  promised  to  show 
him  the  way.  The  culprits  agreed  to  pay  back  in  skins 
and  feathers  what  they  had  stolen,  on  condition  that 
he  settle  down  and  live  with  them.  The  presence  of 
such  a curiosity,  they  thought,  would  give  them  greater 


230  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


prestige  among  other  clans.  Grubb  cheerfully  agreed 
to  the  proposal,  and  set  about  establishing  his  first 
settlement  in  the  Chaco. 

He  directed  his  new  friends  to  build  him  a hut  of 
palm-logs  and  sticks,  with  grass  thatching,  and  to  put 
a bush  in  the  doorway  to  keep  out  prowling  dogs — a 
necessary  precaution,  for  it  was  considered  bad  luck 
to  kill  a dog  and  each  family  owned  at  least  three. 
Provisions  of  sun-dried  meat  were  hung  from  the 
rafters,  a tempting  display  to  the  Indian  eye.  One 
night  when  he  was  snoozing  on  his  sheepskin  spread 
out  on  the  floor,  Grubb  heard  some  one  stealthily  tear- 
ing a hole  in  the  grass  wall  of  his  hut.  From  it 
emerged  a shaggy  black  head  which  he  immediately 
seized  by  the  back  hair.  “I  inquired  who  my  visitor 
was,”  he  says,  “and  from  muffled  sounds  I discovered 
it  was  Alligator  Stomach.”  This  was  a cook  whose 
chief  failing  was  a fondness  for  sampling  the  soup 
and  meat,  before  he  served  it,  until  there  was  very 
little  left  for  any  one  else.  “By  way  of  explaining  he 
coolly  told  me  that  he  had  heard  dogs  near  my  hut,  and 
fearing  for  the  safety  of  the  meat  he  had  simply  come 
to  drive  them  out.  Still  retaining  my  hold  of  him,  I 
asked  why  he  had  gone  to  the  trouble  of  breaking 
through  my  wall  instead  of  coming  through  the  door- 
way, and  told  him  that  in  my  opinion  he  was  the  dog; 
then,  pushing  his  head  roughly  through  the  hole,  I 
bade  him  be  gone.” 

Grubb  had  great  sympathy  with  the  native  customs 
of  the  Indians,  and  he  wished  to  preserve  all  those  not 


W.  BARBROOKE  GRUBB 


231 


directly  harmful.  The  object  of  a missionary,  as  he 
puts  it,  “is  to  win  men  for  Christ,  and  not  to  make 
them  Englishmen.”  One  foreign  importation  he  re- 
fused to  tolerate  was  the  cheap  whisky  which  coast 
Indians  sometimes  brought  into  the  interior  to  sell. 
One  day  he  was  drinking  a bitter  dose  of  quinin  mix- 
ture when  an  Indian  came  into  his  hut  and  caught 
sight  of  the  medicine. 

“Aha !”  said  the  Indian,  sniffing,  “this  smells  like 
foreign  liquor.”  And  his  expression  seemed  to  add : 
“This  stuff  is  bad  for  us,  but  I see  you  can  drink  it.” 

“If  you  will  promise  to  say  nothing  about  it,  I will 
give  you  some  of  this,”  Grubb  said  to  him. 

His  eyes  gleaming  with  anticipation,  the  Indian 
gulped  down  a good  dose;  his  face  screwed  up  into 
lines  of  horror  and  surprise,  and  sputtering  violently 
he  vanished  into  the  woods. 

While  on  a hunting  trip  with  the  Indians,  Grubb 
found  a possible  site  for  a mission  station  in  a region 
called  Thlagnasinkinmith,  or  “the  place  of  many  wood- 
ticks,”  and  at  once  he  began  the  process  of  moving. 
So  far  all  provisions  had  been  fetched  from  the  river 
by  Indian  carriers,  a laborious  business  not  often  to 
the  taste  of  those  selected  to  go. 

One  man,  for  instance,  threatened  to  make  serious 
trouble.  It  was  too  far  and  there  would  be  too  much 
to  carry  back,  he  said. 

“Oh!  What  a mistake  I have  made!”  exclaimed 
Grubb.  “I  thought  I was  speaking  to  one  of  the  men, 
but  I see  it  was  one  of  the  girls.  Go  away  and  weave 


232  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


blankets,  my  girl.  Of  course  no  one  could  expect  you 
to  go  all  the  way  to  the  river  and  carry  heavy  burdens.” 

All  day  long  the  Indian  sulked.  Then,  armed  and 
all  ready  to  pick  a quarrel,  he  came  to  Grubb  and  asked 
defiantly : 

“Are  you  angry?” 

“I  am  very  angry!”  said  Grubb  crisply  and  turned 
his  back. 

“I  am  just  going  to  follow  the  men  you  have  sent  to 
the  river,  and  help  bring  out  your  things,”  came  a 
meek  little  voice  behind  him.  There  was  no  trifling 
with  the  great  white  chief ! 

Grubb  determined  to  try  the  experiment  of  trans- 
porting supplies  from  the  river  to  the  new  station  by 
a cart  and  bullocks,  and  with  the  help  of  a few  re- 
luctant Indians,  he  cut  the  first  track  into  the  interior. 
The  witch-doctors,  who  hated  him  because  he  laughed 
at  their  tricks,  plotted  to  kill  him  by  magic  if  he  dared 
open  up  their  wilderness  to  foreigners.  But  their 
threats  added  zest  to  the  game.  The  trail  was  rough 
and  in  the  rainy  season  almost  impassable,  but  it  has 
made  history  in  the  Chaco,  for  over  it  came  the  white 
men  and  civilization. 

Two  more  missionaries  were  sent  from  England, 
and  sixty  miles  further  inland  Grubb  established  a 
central  station.  When  he  came  back  to  Thlagnasin- 
kinmith  to  move  his  property,  he  had  to  reprove  the 
Indians  for  some  fault,  and  as  usual  they  took  offense 
and  deserted  him. 

For  ten  days  he  lived  alone  in  his  log  hut.  “The 


W.  BARBROOKE  GRUBB 


233 


wild  scene  around  me,”  he  wrote,  “and  the  strange 
stillness  so  peculiar  to  the  tropics,  broken  only  by  the 
weird  sounds  of  insect  and  animal  life,  so  worked  upon 
my  nerves  that  I imagined  all  the  beasts  of  the  forest 
were  congregating  nightly  around  my  hut.  The 
nearest  human  being,  as  far  as  I knew,  was  quite 
thirty  miles  off,  and  I had  not  even  a dog  as  a com- 
panion.” When  a party  of  Indians  finally  appeared 
the  only  ones  who  would  help  with  his  bullock  cart 
were  two  sulky  old  men  and  one  boy.  For  seven  long 
days,  Grubb  fought  his  way  through  marshes  and 
forests  and  across  rivers,  almost  single-handed,  for 
one  of  the  men  was  ill  with  fever,  and  the  others 
usually  stood  by  and  watched  when  any  hard  work 
was  to  be  done. 

For  five  years  Grubb  lived  the  life  of  the  Indians, 
roaming  from  village  to  village,  first  with  one  clan, 
then  with  another,  learning  their  language  and  win- 
ning their  confidence.  He  went  hunting  and  camping 
with  them,  and  when  the  day’s  game  was  unusually 
plentiful,  he  joined  in  their  feasts  and  celebrations. 
“I  used  to  enter  heartily  into  these  festivities,  dancing 
and  singing  with  them  night  after  night,  my  face  and 
arms  painted  red  with  uruca  dye,  my  head  adorned 
with  feathers,  and  my  body  ornamented  as  far  as 
possible  in  true  Indian  style.”  Like  the  rest  he  ate 
only  once  a day,  and  dipped  his  share  of  the  repulsive 
food  out  of  the  greasy  clay  pot  used  in  common  by  the 
whole  company.  The  best  water  supply  was  found  in 
the  caraguata  plant  which  holds  about  a pint  in  the 


234  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


hollow  formed  by  its  spiked  leaves  and  thorns.  This 
liquid  the  Indians  would  strain  through  the  crown  of  a 
hat  or  a piece  of  old  blanket  to  catch  the  water  spiders 
and  dead  leaves.  Often  thirst  drove  them  all  to  drink 
mud  puddles  or  green,  slimy  water  which  even  the 
animals  refused  to  touch.  One  custom,  whenever  In- 
dians met  each  other  or  sat  around  the  camp-fire  to- 
gether, was  to  paSs  a common  pipe  from  mouth  to 
mouth.  It  was  their  way  of  being  sociable,  and  it 
would  have  been  a deadly  insult  to  refuse  the  pipe  or 
to  wipe  it  off  before  smoking.  Grubb’s  turn  might 
come  after  an  Indian  who  had  been  dining  on  a 
savoury  rattlesnake,  but  he  never  flinched.  He  took 
part  in  wrestling  matches  and  water  sports,  romped 
with  the  children,  and  chatted  gayly  with  the  women, 
whose  favor  was  worth  winning,  for  they  held  an  im- 
portant position  in  the  community  life.  The  men  were 
all  used  to  long  marches  from  one  hunting  ground  to 
another,  and  their  powers  of  endurance,  trained  by 
years  of  continual  wandering  over  the  country,  were 
tremendous.  Grubb  never  allowed  himself  to  betray 
his  weariness.  What  they  did,  he  did. 

The  deadly  fear  of  evil  spirits  and  the  souls  of  de- 
parted friends  prowling  in  the  night  casts  a black 
shadow  over  the  lives  of  the  Chaco  Indians  until  they 
have  been  taught  to  know  better.  No  people  in  the 
world  have  a greater  horror  of  ghosts,  and  nothing 
can  make  them  venture  away  from  their  cluster  of 
camps  after  the  sun  sets.  After  a death  the  burial 
rites  are  always  performed  before  dark,  and  some- 


W.  BARBROOKE  GRUBB 


235 


times  in  such  a hurry  that  a victim  unfortunate  enough 
not  to  die  earlier  in  the  day  is  buried  alive.  Then,  in 
terror  of  the  wandering  spirit  of  the  dead,  the  Indians 
abandon  and  destroy  the  village  where  they  have  been 
living  and  hurry  on  to  build  their  wretched  little 
shelters  somewhere  else. 

Grubb’s  influence  became  so  great  that,  after  much 
reasoning  with  one  clan  on  the  occasion  of  an  old 
man’s  death,  he  made  them  promise  not  to  destroy 
their  village  as  usual.  But  to  be  on  the  safe  side  they 
pulled  down  all  their  huts  and  built  more  in  a position 
where  they  would  be  protected,  by  Grubb’s  own  hut, 
from  the  grave  and  the  approaching  ghost.  Just  a 
few  days  before  this  the  village  witch-doctor  had  been 
persuaded  to  build  himself  a real  little  cabin  of  which 
he  was  very  proud.  This  he  could  not  bear  to  pull 
down,  so  he  blocked  up  the  doorway  and  cut  an  open- 
ing on  the  opposite  side — a device  intended  to  baffle 
the  puzzled  ghost,  should  he  try  to  enter.  The  night 
following  the  burial  was  a hideous  one  for  all  con- 
cerned. 

“I  was  awakened  by  a terrible  hubbub  among  the 
people,”  says  Grubb.  “The  few  guns  they  had  were 
being  fired  off,  arrows  were  whizzing  through  the  air, 
women  were  shrieking  and  beating  on  the  ground  with 
sticks,  children  crying,  dogs  barking,  and  goats  and 
sheep  running  hither  and  thither.”  Some  one  had 
dreamed  that  the  ghost  had  entered  Grubb’s  hut  for  a 
little  chat,  and  dreams  were  always  believed.  Any 
communication  with  a departed  spirit  was  considered 


236  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


an  unpardonable  sin,  and  the  angry  people  came  to 
kill  him.  He  offered  to  disprove  their  theory  by  walk- 
ing over  the  grave;  then,  since  that  failed  to  satisfy 
them,  he  lay  down  on  the  floor  again,  drew  the  mos- 
quito netting  into  place  with  a bored  air,  and  appar- 
ently went  to  sleep.  Perhaps  the  Indians  were  not 
anxious  to  have  a second  spirit  ambling  about  the 
village,  for  they  never  carried  out  their  threat.  It  was 
another  mile-stone  in  the  progress  of  Grubb’s  Chaco 
Mission.  For  the  first  time  in  their  history,  the 
Lengua-Mascoy  Indians  had  remained  in  a village 
where  death  had  occurred. 

The  witch-doctors  were  the  greatest  hindrance  to 
establishing  mission  stations  and  their  influence  was 
always  an  evil  one.  Grubb  never  lost  a chance  to  dis- 
credit them  in  the  eyes  of  the  people.  Once  a heavy 
rain  did  extensive  damage  to  the  village,  and  the 
wizard,  supposed  to  have  the  power  of  raising  storms 
whenever  he  liked,  was  the  center  of  admiration.  It  so 
happened  that  his  own  garden  was  ruined  by  the  rain. 
“Now,”  said  Grubb  to  the  crowd  of  Indians,  “when  he 
engineered  that  storm,  why  did  he  not  arrange  that 
it  should  not  damage  his  own  property?” 

An  hysterical  old  woman  was  supposed  to  be 
possessed  of  an  evil  spirit.  While  four  men  were 
holding  her  down  and  a wizard  was  trying  to  drive  out 
the  demon,  Grubb  strolled  up  with  a bottle  of  strong 
liquid  ammonia,  and  held  it  under  the  patient’s  nose. 
Her  cure  was  instantaneous  and  complete.  To  find 
out  how  they  managed  their  tricks,  Grubb  feigned  a 


W.  BARBROOKE  GRUBB 


237 


pain  in  his  arm  and  sent  for  old  Redhead,  the  witch- 
doctor. After  sucking  the  painful  spot,  Redhead  pro- 
duced three  fish-bones  and  announced  that  they  had 
been  wished  upon  him  by  some  unfriendly  wizard  who 
lived  in  the  western  Chaco.  “They  are  not  nice  people 
in  the  West,”  he  said.  “Quite  different  from  us  who 
love  you  and  are  your  friends.”  Old  Redhead’s  love 
was  not  apparent,  however,  when  Grubb,  taking  him 
unawares,  pried  his  mouth  open  and  pulled  out  his 
whole  secret  store  of  fish-bones. 

“We  have  to  be  very  careful  indeed,”  says  Grubb 
of  the  Indians,  “when  appealing  to  their  religious  feel- 
ings, to  avoid  sensationalism,  for  they  are  easily 
worked  upon,  and  the  result  would  be  a superficial 
rather  than  a permanent  gain.”  In  the  whole  Chaco 
Mission  there  is  not  a particle  of  the  mysticism  and 
glitter,  none  of  the  elaborate  religious  ceremonies 
which  used  to  throw  the  Guarani  Indians  of  the  old 
Jesuit  towns  into  emotional  spasms  which  passed  for 
religion.  Simple  exercises  are  sometimes  held  to 
honor  men  or  women  who  have  been  plucky  enough  to 
lay  aside  a pet  tradition.  Four  women,  who  had 
helped  in  the  fight  against  infanticide  by  sparing  the 
lives  of  four  children  each,  were  publicly  praised,  pre- 
sented with  printed  certificates  and  crowned  with 
flower  wreaths,  all  on  a raised  platform  where  they 
could  be  shining  examples  of  courage  for  the  rest  of 
the  Indians. 

Because  the  conversion  of  the  Lengua-Mascoys  is 
genuine  and  lasting  when  it  does  occur,  the  process 


238  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


has  been  a long  one.  It  was  seven  years  before  the 
first  church  was  built.  In  1898  the  first  two  converts 
joined  it — Philip  and  James  they  were  called,  because 
their  real  names  were  too  long  to  pronounce.  In  the 
days  of  the  Jesuits  the  priests  commanded;  the  people 
obeyed,  and  never  learned  how  to  depend  on  them- 
selves. Grubb’s  policy  is  to  guide  his  Indians  till  they 
can  direct  their  own  lives  along  new  lines,  managing 
their  church,  directing  their  schools  and  industries, 
civilizing  their  own  people.  “I  am  perfectly  sure  of 
one  thing,”  says  Mr.  Grubb,  “and  that  is,  that  until 
the  Indians  themselves  become  the  evangelists  of  their 
own  people  we  shall  never  succeed  in  building  up  a 
powerful  church.”  The  very  first  convert  was  per- 
suaded to  give  a little  talk  before  his  clan  about  the 
things  he  had  learned. 

“These  people,”  he  said,  pointing  to  Mr.  Grubb  and 
the  other  missionaries  of  the  station,  “have  told  us  that 
a long  time  ago  the  Son  of  God  came  from  above  in 
the  form  of  a man,  and  lived  in  a country  not  very  far 
from  their  own.  He  preached  his  good  news  to  the 
people  of  that  country,  and  they  in  turn  told  it  to 
others.  This  Son  of  God  explains  to  us  fnany  things 
we  do  not  know,  and  shows  us  that  our  traditions  are 
wrong.  We  have  known  these  people  for  some  years, 
and  we  have  always  found  them  truthful  and  friendly 
to  us.  We  are  sure,  therefore,  that  they  are  not  de- 
ceiving us.” 

Repeatedly  in  the  history  of  races  primitive  peoples 
have  gradually  dwindled  and  disappeared  after  com- 


W.  BARBROOKE  GRUBB 


239 


ing  in  contact  with  civilization,  which  has  far  too  often 
meant  customs,  clothing,  and  manners  most  appro- 
priate for  white  men  but  ridiculously  unsuitable  for 
savages.  Mr.  Grubb’s  is  the  magnificent  creed  of 
modern  missions:  “To  arrest  the  decline  and  decay  of 
the  race;  to  bind  the  various  tribes  together;  to  give 
them  a system  of  government;  to  raise  them  to  the 
level  of  property-holders;  to  induce  them  to  adopt  an 
industrious,  settled,  and  regular  life;  to  instil  into 
them  a higher  moral  sense;  to  awaken  a desire  for 
culture  and  progress;  to  fit  them  to  receive  the  offer 
of  the  Paraguayan  government  of  citizenship  in  that 
Republic;  to  make  them  useful  fnembers  of  society,  a 
people  who  could  bear  their  part  in  the  development 
of  their  own  land,  and  take  their  due  place  as  a unit 
in  the  growing  population  of  a great  continent.  The 
only  way  we  could  succeed  in  doing  this  was  by  im- 
planting in  them  a pure,  living  form  pf  Christianity, 
which  would  become  the  basis  of  their  political,  social, 
and  moral  constitution.” 

To-day  in  the  heart  of  the  Chaco  there  is  a village 
called  the  Garden  Colony  of  Enmakthlawaia  where 
each  Indian  owns  his  own  house,  garden,  and  cattle, 
earns  his  living  by  a good  trade,  has  money  put  away 
in  the  Indian  bank,  knows  how  to  read  and  write,  and 
sends  his  children  to  school.  The  men  of  this  village 
make  their  own  laws  and  see  that  they  are  enforced. 
When  they  decree  that  no  witch-craft  can  be  practised 
within  the  village  boundaries,  and  along  comes  a party 
of  outsiders  to  indulge  in  wizards’  tricks,  native  police- 


240  MAKERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA 


men  sally  forth  and  use  their  “billies”  to  good  ad- 
vantage. 

The  day  is  passed  when  tourists  dare  not  enter  the 
Chaco.  “Before  I arrived  in  South  America,”  says 
one  Englishman  who  visited  the  Garden  Colony  in 
idle  curiosity,  “I  knew  no  one  connected  with  the  mis- 
sion, and,  having  nothing  to  do  with  missionary  work, 
my  criticism  is  absolutely  that  of  an  outsider.  They 
really  do  seem  to  be  building  up  and  educating  the 
Indian  on  such  excellent  lines  that  I firmly  believe  it 
will  prove  of  a permanent  character,  and  eventually 
become  a self-governing  body.  When  one  thinks  that 
but  ten  years  ago  it  was  dangerous  to  one’s  life  to 
venture  into  the  Chaco,  while  now  there  are  numerous 
estancias  on  the  border,  and  one  can  now  go  for  a 
hundred  and  more  miles  into  the  interior  with  com- 
parative safety,  it  shows  that  the  missionaries  have 
got  the  ‘thin  edge  of  the  wedge’  well  thrust  in. 

“These  men  and  women  are  making  savages  into 
reasonable,  peace-abiding  people,  and — what  touches 
the  commercial  world  more — they  are  making  what 
was  once  considered  a piece  of  waste  land,  the  size  of 
England  and  Scotland,  of  real  commercial  value. 
Landowners  in  the  Paraguayan  Chaco  owe  all  this  to 
the  English  Mission,  and  especially  to  Mr.  W.  B. 
Grubb,  the  pioneer  and  backbone  of  the  whole  under- 
taking.” 

The  story  of  the  Chaco  Mission,  like  that  of  all 
great  achievements,  leaves  untold  half  the  adventures 
and  dangers  and  difficulties  that  are  calmly  accepted 


W.  BARBROOICE  GRUBB 


241 


as  all  a part  of  the  day’s  program.  They  are  the 
privilege  of  explorers,  scientists,  sea-captains,  bridge- 
builders,  missionaries — all  the  men  who  lead  the  way 
for  others  to  follow.  A tourist  in  Paraguay  said  of 
the  Chaco  missionaries:  “Like  the  plucky  young  fel- 
lows they  are,  they  seem  to  have  concealed  the  real 
hardships  they  endure.” 

But  Mr.  Grubb,  when  he  looks  backward,  will  tell 
you  that  those  early  years,  exploring  the  wilderness 
and  living  as  the  Indians  lived,  were  the  happiest  in 
his  whole  life. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

FRANCISCO  PIZARRO 

Andagoya,  Pascual  de.  Narrative  of  the  Proceedings  of  Pedrarias 
Davila.  1865.  Translated  by  C.  R.  Markham.  Hakluyt  Society, 
London.  Out  of  print. 

Bryce,  James.  South  America:  Observations  and  Impressions. 
1914.  (Revised  edition.)  The  Macmillan  Company,  New  York. 
$2.50. 

Cieza  de  Leon,  Pedro  de.  The  War  of  Quito:  Inca  Documents. 
1913.  Translated  by  C.  R.  Markham.  Hakluyt  Society,  London. 
Out  of  print. 

Fiske,  John.  The  Discovery  of  America.  2 Vols.  1892.  Hough- 
ton, Mifflin  & Company,  New  York.  $1.80  each. 

Guzman,  Alonzo  Enrique  de.  Life  and  Acts,  1518-43.  1862. 

Translated  by  C.  R.  Markham.  Hakluyt  Society,  London. 
Out  of  print. 

Helps,  Arthur.  The  Spanish  Conquest  in  America.  4 Vols. 
1904.  John  Lane,  New  York.  $1.50  each.  Book  XVII,  “The 
Conquest  of  Peru.” 

Markham,  Clements  R.  History  of  Peru.  1892.  Charles  H. 

Sergei  & Company,  Chicago,  $2.50. 

Prescott,  William.  History  of  the  Conquest  of  Peru.  2 Vols. 

1847.  T.  Y.  Crowell  & Company,  New  York.  $1.  25. 
Robertson,  William.  The  History  of  America.  2 Vols.  1778. 
W.  Strahan,  London.  Reprinted,  Library  of  American  History, 
Samuel  L.  Knapp.  Vol.  II,  Book  VI. 

Vega,  Garcilasso  de  la.  Royal  Commentaries  of  the  Incas.  Vol.  II. 
1871.  Translated  by  C.  R.  Markham.  Hakluyt  Society,  London. 
Out  of  print. 

Xerez,  Francisco  de.  (Pizarro’s  secretary.)  Reports  on  the 
Discovery  of  Peru.  1872.  Translated  by  C.  R.  Markham. 
Hakluyt  Society,  London.  Out  of  print. 

J0S£  DE  ANCHIETA 

Dawson,  Thomas  C.  South  American  Republics.  2 Vols.  1904. 

G.  P.  Putnam’s  Sons,  New  York.  $3.00. 

Graham,  R.  B.  Cunninghame.  A Vanished  Arcadia.  1901.  The 
Macmillan  Company,  New  York.  $2.50. 

Koebel,  W.  H.  In  Jesuit  Land.  1912.  Stanley  Paul  & Company, 
London.  12s.  6d. 


243 


244 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


Southey,  R.  History  of  Brasil.  3 Vols.  1817-22.  Longman, 
Hurst,  Rees,  Orme  & Brown,  London.  Out  of  print. 

Zahm,  J.  A.  Rev.  Through  South  America’s  Southland.  1916. 

D.  Appleton  & Company,  New  York.  $2.50,  net. 

Brasilian  Biographical  Manual.  “Anchieta,  Jose  de.” 

Catholic  Encyclopedia.  “Anchieta,  Jose  de.” 

J0S£  DE  SAN  MARTIN 

Crichfield,  George  W.  American  Supremacy.  2 Vols.  Vol.  I. 

1908.  Brentano’s,  New  York.  $6.00,  net. 

Dawson,  Thomas  C.  South  American  Republics.  2 Vols.  1904. 

G.  P.  Putnam’s  Sons,  New  York.  $3.00. 

Elliott,  G.  F.  Scott.  Chile:  Its  History  and  Development.  1907. 

Charles  Scribner’s  Sons,  New  York.  $3.00. 

Hall,  Captain  Basil.  Extracts  from  a Journal  Written  on  the 
Coasts  of  Chile,  Peru,  and  Mexico,  1820,  1821,  1822.  2 Vols. 
1824.  Archibald  Constable  & Company,  Edinburgh.  Vol.  I. 
Mitre,  Bartolome.  The  Emancipation  of  South  America.  (Con- 
densed translation  of  the  History  of  San  Martin,  Buenos  Aires, 
1887.)  1893.  Translated  by  William  Pilling.  Chapman  & 

Hall,  London.  12s.  Out  of  print. 

Edinburgh  Review,  Vol.  XIII : 277.  January,  1809.  “The  Emanci- 
pation of  Spanish  America,”  a review. 


SIMON  BOLIVAR 

Bingham,  Hiram.  The  Journal  of  an  Expedition  Across  Vene- 
suela  and  Colombia,  1906,  1907.  1909.  Yale  University  Press, 
New  Haven.  $2.25. 

Cochrane,  Charles  Stuart.  Journal  of  a Residence  and  Travels 
in  Colombia  during  the  Years  1823  and  1824.  1825.  H.  Col- 
burn, London.  $7.50. 

Crichfield,  George  W.  American  Supremacy.  2 Vols.  1908. 
Brentano’s,  New  York.  $6.00,  net. 

Dawson,  Thomas  C.  South  American  Republics.  2 vols.  1904. 
G.  P.  Putnam’s  Sons,  New  York.  $3.00. 

Mitre,  Bartolome.  The  Emancipation  of  South  America.  (Con- 
densed translation  of  the  History  of  San  Martin,  Buenos  Aires, 
1887.)  1893.  Translated  by  William  Pilling.  Chapman  & 

Hall,  London.  12s.  Out  of  print. 

Petre,  F.  Loraine.  Simon  Bolivar;  “El  Libertador.”  1910.  John 
Lane,  New  York.  $4.00. 

Recollections  of  a Service  of  Three  Years  in  Venezuela  and 
Colombia.  By  an  Officer  of  the  Colombian  Navy.  1828.  2 Vols. 
Hunt  & Clarke,  London. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


245 


JAMES  THOMSON 

Brown,  Hubert  W.  Latin  America.  1901.  Fleming  H.  Revell 
Company,  New  York.  $1.20,  net. 

Browning,  Webster  E.  “The  Lancasterian  Schools  in  South 
America.”  Report  of  Commission  III,  Congress  on  Christian 
YVork  in  Latin  America.  1916.  Missionary  Education  Move- 
ment, New  York.  3 Vols.  $2.50. 

Thomson,  James.  Letters  on  the  Moral  and  Religious  Slate  of 
South  America.  Written  during  a residence  of  nearly  seven 
years  in  Buenos  Aires,  Chile,  Peru,  and  Colombia.  1827. 
James  Nisbet,  London. 

ALLEN  F.  GARDINER 

Gardiner,  Allen  F.  A Visit  to  the  Indians  on  the  Frontiers  of 
Chile.  1841.  R.  B.  Seelye  and  W.  Burnside,  London. 

Hirst,  W.  A.  Argentina.  1912.  Charles  Scribner’s  Sons,  New 
York.  $3.00. 

Maitland,  Francis  J.  G.  Chile:  Its  Land  and  People.  1914. 
Francis  Griffiths,  London.  10s.  6d. 

Marsh,  John  W.,  and  Stirling,  W.  H.  The  Story  of  Allen 
Gardiner.  1874.  James  Nisbet  & Company,  London,  is.  6d. 

Myers,  Sarah  A.  Self-Sacrifice,  or  The  Pioneers  of  Fuegia. 
1861.  Westminster  Press,  Philadelphia.  Out  of  print. 

Snow,  William  Parker.  A Two  Years’  Cruise  off  Tierra  del 
Fuego.  1857.  (Late  Commander  of  the  Mission  Yacht  Allen 
Gardiner .)  Longman,  Brown!  Green,  Longmans  & Roberts, 
London.  2 Vols. 

Williams,  Richard.  Journal  of  a Mission,  1850,  1851,  a Contem- 
porary Transcript.  (In  manuscript  only). 

Young,  Robert.  From  Cape  Horn  to  Panama.  1900.  South 
American  Missionary  Society,  London.  2s.  6d. 

Harper’s  Magazine,  Vol.  XI:  607.  October,  1855.  “The 
Araucanians,”  a review. 

The  Living  Age,  Vol.  XXXIII : 544.  June  19,  1852.  “Starvation 
of  Patagonian  Missionaries.” 

JUAN  MANUEL  ROSAS 

Crichfield,  George.  American  Supremacy.  2 Vols.  1908.  Bren- 
tano’s,  New  York.  $6.00,  net. 

Dawson,  Thomas  C.  South  American  Republics.  2 Vols.  1904. 
G.  P.  Putnam’s  Sons,  New  York.  $3.00. 

Hirst,  W.  A.  Argentina.  1912.  Charles  Scribner’s  Sons,  New 
York.  $3.00. 

Parish,  Sir  Woodbine.  Buenos  Aires  and  the  Provinces  of  the 
Rio  de  la  Plata.  1839.  J.  Murray,  London. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


246 

Sarmiento,  D.  F.  The  Days  of  the  Tyrants;  or  Civilization  and 
Barbarism;  with  a biographical  sketch  of  the  author  by  Mrs. 
Horace  Mann.  1868.  Thomas  Nelson  & Sons,  New  York. 
Cornhill  Magazine,  Vol.  V : 530,  New  Series.  October,  1898. 
“Rosas.” 

Democratic  Review,  Vol.  XVIII : 369.  May,  1846.  “Rosas — 
Struggle  of  the  Republican  against  the  Monarchical  Principle 
in  the  Argentine  Republic.” 

Eclectic  Magazine,  Vol.  XXVI:  352,  “Don  Manuel  Rosas”;  and 
406,  “Rosas  and  La  Plata.”  July,  1852. 

Fraser,  Vol.  XLV : 596.  May,  1852.  “Rosas,  the  Dictator  of 
Buenos  Aires.” 

North  American  Review,  Vol.  LXIX:  43.  July,  1849.  “Rosas 
and  the  Argentine  Republic,”  a review. 

Overland  Monthly,  Vol.  I:  337.  October,  1868.  “The  Story  of  a 
Dictator.” 

DOMINGO  F.  SARMIENTO 

Akers,  Charles  E.  A History  of  South  America.  1912.  E.  P. 
Dutton,  New  York.  $4.00. 

Crichfield,  George  W.  American  Supremacy.  2 Vols.  1908. 

Brentano’s,  New  York.  $6.00,  net. 

Sarmiento,  D.  F.  The  Days  of  the  Tyrants;  or  Civilization  and 
Barbarism;  with  a biographical  sketch  of  the  author  by  Mrs. 
Horace  Mann.  1868.  Thomas  Nelson  & Sons,  New  York. 

DOM  PEDRO  II 

Agassiz,  J.  Louis,  and  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Cabot.  A Journey  in 
Brazil.  1871.  Houghton,  Mifflin  & Company,  New  York.  $2.50. 
Andrews,  C.  C.  Brazil:  Its  Condition  and  Prospects.  1889.  D. 

Appleton  & Company,  New  York.  $1.50. 

Bruce,  G.  J.  Brazil  and  the  Brasilians.  1914.  Dodd,  Mead  & 
Company,  New  York.  $3.00,  net. 

Dawson,  Thomas  C.  South  American  Republics.  2 Vols.  1904. 

G.  P.  Putnam’s  Sons,  New  York.  $3.00. 

Kidder,  D.  P.,  and  Fletcher,  J.  C.  Brasil  and  the  Brasilians. 

1857.  Childs  & Peterson,  Philadelphia.  Out  of  print. 
Vincent,  Frank.  Around  and  About  South  America.  1890.  D. 

Appleton  & Company,  New  York.  $5.00. 

The  Arena,  Vol.  V : 366.  February,  1892.  “The  Last  American 
Monarch.” 

The  Contemporary  Review,  Vol.  LXXXVI:  727.  November, 
1904.  “The  Last  Emperor  of  Brazil.” 

The  Cosmopolitan,  Vol.  VIII:  431.  February,  1890.  “The  Exiled 
Emperor.” 

The  Nation,  Vol.  XLIX:  494.  December  19,  1889.  “The  Brazilian 
Revolution.” 


T R 0 P f 


C A N C E R 


moirsy^ 


M ETlA  ' 

0 M BI 


. UAFAOOS' 


p«HlU  | 


ORIEI 


A.  M A.  Z <3  N 


Tu^SBp 


[INAS  GERAESi 


TOUTim  fr 


kP.OTOJ  1 


$ AO  PAULO- 


Janeiro 


lopoli^  (Deslcrro) 


10  GRAND! 


>0  SI) Ed 


i J CAN 


Valparal; 


PQ^'r"4,° 


BUENOS 
A IRES 


LATIN 

AMERICA 


» FALKLAND 

isT 


iii 

j /*, 

r 

m 

>kjL  / 

,^7]  ''  -"-i'i.-RS' 

BIBLIOGRAPHY  247 

North  American,  Vol.  LXVIII:  314.  April,  1849.  “The  Empire 
of  Brazil,”  a review. 

Smithsonian  Institution  Report,  1876,  p.  173.  “Dom  Pedro  II, 
Emperor  of  Brazil.” 

DAVID  TRUMBULL 

Speer,  Robert  E.  Studies  of  Missionary  Leadership.  1914.  West- 
minster Press,  Philadelphia.  $1.50. 

Trumbull,  Henry  Clay.  Old  Time  Student  Volunteers.  1902. 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company,  New  York.  $1.00. 

New  Englander  and  Yale  Review,  Vol.  XIV : 430,  New  Series. 
June,  1889.  “In  Memoriam:  Rev.  David  Trumbull,  D.D., 
Valparaiso,  Chile.” 

The  Record  (Valparaiso),  February  23,  1889.  “In  Memoriam.” 
Annual  Reports  of  the  Presbyterian  Board  of  Foreign  Missions. 

FRANCISCO  PENZOTTI 

Laun,  Rev.  Friedrich.  The  Chief  Points  of  Difference  between  the 
Catholic  and  Protestant  Creeds.  1915.  (Roman  Catholic.) 
J.  F.  Wagner,  New  York.  75  cents,  net. 

Penzotti,  F.  Spiritual  Victories  in  Latin  America.  Autobiog- 
raphy. 1916.  Translated  by  Miss  Bertha  Bell.  American 
Bible  Society,  New  York.  5 cents. 

Annual  Reports  of  American  Bible  Society,  1883-1894. 

The  Bible  Society  Record,  1884-1891. 

The  New  York  Herald,  January  13,  20,  26;  March  9,  1892. 

W.  BARB..OOKE  GRUBB 

Grubb,  W.  B.  Among  the  Indians  of  the  Paraguayan  Chaco. 

1904.  South  American  Missionary  Society,  London,  is.  6d. 
Grubb,  W.  B.  An  Unknown  People  in  an  Unknown  Land.  1911. 

J.  B.  Lippincott  Company,  Philadelphia.  $3.50. 

Grubb,  W.  B.  A Church  in  the  Wilds.  1914.  E.  P.  Dutton  & 
Company,  New  York.  $1.50,  net. 


F 

1 

/ o 

•*V  I 

F^pm  Ti 

r/PLUL 

TTiarPi^f 

jp A rr-^ 
JWLUUJjI  1 

"m">  I Vi 

jt 

f) 

,V 


W 


